High Noon: Topless In The Gym

esterday, I pushed myself hard on the circuit training equipment. After a workout that would have made Spartacus cry, it was a relief to finally drag my sore, sweaty body into the locker room and ease it under the hot water. Unfortunately, when I stepped, clean and refreshed, out of the shower, I made a dismaying discovery. I had neglected to pack a clean shirt. Jeans, underthings, socks, shoes—everything was there except a top. It took only a moment to evaluate my options. With two fingers, I gingerly picked up the perspiration-streaked T-shirt I had worn while I exercised. The thought of pulling that damp scrap of material over my freshly scrubbed and deodorized skin was appalling. So I did the only other thing I could do. I pulled on my coat, buttoned it up to my chin, and held my head up high as I made my sweeping exit—a secret streaker, boldly (if covertly) defying the spirit of the “no shirt, no shoes, no service” sign on the door/ Katrina , Notes on a Napkin. More here .

Question: What would you do, if faced with Katrina’s situation?