Let's Go Clubbing... At Extreme Fitness

Extreme Fitness held a grand opening for their new flagship location at Toronto Life Square on Thursday night, and I was invited as a VIP guest for some reason.

There were roped-off rooms where I was invited to indulge in sushi and free-pour vodka into my glass. The huge space was filled with scantily-clad fitness models and women dressed up in their nightclubbing finery. You'd think that with unlimited free sushi and booze, and being surrounded by apparently hot women (sometimes it's hard to tell since most of them wear so much make-up), that I'd be grinning from ear to ear. But I wasn't.

It just wasn't my scene. I don't go to dance clubs. I don't dress up. I don't partake of tanning salons, but I was given three separate coupons so I could get one week for free, 50 per cent off a spray tan, or a two-for-one "silver" package. They're sitting beside me on my desk if anyone wants them. By the looks of a lot of the people at the club, it seems to be the thing to do these days.

I didn't talk to a single person and didn't know anyone until my co-editor Aaron Brophy showed up with his fiancee and ChartAttack contributor, Sarah Kurchak. Aaron left soon after to have his ears destroyed by My Bloody Valentine, and I thought I'd head home early, but Sarah (who's certified to teach almost everything in the world of fitness) started educating me on such things. We drank more vodka, we made fun of people, and we ended up staying later than anticipated.

The dichotomy of the evening was best illustrated when I went to the washroom. There were valets offering hand towels and cologne by the sinks like you'd find at some swank hot spot, and then I was faced with a naked guy changing out of his boxercise gear right around the corner.

Early on in the evening, a DJ was spinning beat-heavy, rhythmic tunes that I assume are supposed to inspire you as you're working out. Although we didn't notice the difference until we moved to a spot where we could see the DJ booth, "international celebrity DJ Steve Aoki" followed him.

Apparently all it takes to be a superstar DJ is to play 45-second parts of familiar songs and occasionally raise your arms in the air. We detected quite a few transitions that weren't exactly smooth, but, whatever. The sheep seemed to think it was great.

There was an after-party with some other DJ at a King Street club, but I had my fill. I walked to the Horseshoe, talked to Tyrone and Roger at the door, went inside to pee, and then continued my journey home.

Thanks for the invitation, food and drinks, but I won't be buying an Extreme Fitness membership. I'm happy to do my push-ups, sit-ups and dumbell-lifting at home, and to play sports and walk all over the city when I go out.

Yep, I'm old-school.