In one week in late June, the mayor emerged on that Monday into the gym’s stretching area in a T-shirt, running shoes, and khaki cargo shorts with pockets.
Hey guy—where you going in those cargo shorts? The Old Navy? Are you listening to me? Hey—how are those stretches going, Big Cargo?
After 15 minutes of stretching and Blackberry multitasking, he moved to the weight room. By 9:24 a.m. he was wearing headphones on a stationary bicycle, pedaling at a gentle pace while watching CNN.
Hey, what are you, a spring? Stop stretching so much. What are you—a Slinky? Hey, not to disturb your gentle stationary bicycle pedaling, but just wanted to tell you, your Blackberry just fell out of your cargo shorts. Yeah. You hear me man?
At 10:23 a.m., Mr. de Blasio exited the gym wearing a suit and got into a waiting car.
Hey—how was that workout big guy? Seems like you managed to kill well over an hour in the gym—you must be wore out? Right? You feeling pumped? My man? You feeling super gassed from that workout? In the stretching area? And pedaling slowly on the bike? On your Blackberry? Hey, way to ride in a car to a faraway gym to pedal on a bike to nowhere. My man. Nice one. Hey—how’s that suit? Fresh, I bet? Not too much sweat? Right? You gonna beat all your rivals? With the power that you got from that workout? Bill?
You didn’t even get any sweat on those cargo shorts—did you? Bill. Did you?