Grand Central Sauna

I'm learning that I am handicapped by many judgements about people, places, and things.  I approach situations and relationships with the idea of how they ought to be. Believe it or not, this causes problems because, guess what? People, places, and things are rarely in line with my fixed presumptions and no one follows the script I've written. I should distribute it first.
     Take the sauna--the one at 24 Hour Fitness on Palomar Airport Road in beautiful Carlsbad, CA. I love saunas, any sauna, but not this one.  Why?  It's the fixed idea problem. My idea is that saunas should be hot, clean, dim, and absolutely silent.  I'm in there to forget the world for a while and let that deep, dry heat saturate my bones.  I don't care if six other people join me, as long as they keep their mouths shut.
     This is evidently not the script they're reading from.  This sauna is instead a crossroads, a hook-up, a hang-out, and an alternate workout area when you're bored with the 10,000-square-foot purpose-built exercise kingdom outside this tiny room. In the sauna there are newspapers scattered on the benches.  A man in gym shoes listens to thumping music on his headphones. A couple is engaged in a deep and relational conversation about her automobile engine.  One guy stands coach over his girlfriend who's grunting out guy-type push-ups.
     Is it any wonder I migrate to the steam room, though I feel boiled alive? At least there, it really is too hot and too foggy to talk much.  It's hard enough just to draw breath.  Even so, you can bet some guy will come in and start using the area to stretch his hammies, vocalize, and throw some pine essence on the spigot.  We're following his script whether we like it or not.