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My gym bag used to smell like a crime scene, then a guy named Ray at the front desk sniffed it
Six months ago I was that guy tossing sweaty shirts straight into a nylon bag and zipping it shut until Friday, which I now know is basically growing a science project. Ray at the front desk of my gym in Akron finally leaned over one morning and asked if something died in there, so I bought a $12 mesh laundry bag and started hanging it on the hook instead. Now the bag airs out between sessions and my car doesn't fog up with regret on the drive home. What's your grossest gym bag horror story, because I know I'm not the only one who waited way too long?
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