The only thing worse than a body builder on steroids is a body builder on steroids who sweats on you. I was sick of all the muscle men at my gym: the guys who had to flex in the mirror in order to compensate for other shortcomings in their life. I had had enough of the smelly, lumpy protein shakes that sat baking on the windowsills and enough of the wannabe American Gladiators who probably went by tough names like "Ice" and "Raven." I was sick of it all, and for that reason, I decided to switch to the daintier, more elegant workout institution that is the seventh floor of The Veneto Casino. Panama City Fitness at its best.

My new workout facilities, I imagine, are similar to where kings used to work out back in medieval times. While you may be envisioning them with large arm chairs and women dressed as pea*censored*s with giant fans, this is not what they are really like. They are actually quite modern. I have a personal trainer named Alfredo who reminds me of Speedy Gonzales. He is short and squatty and has the voice of a crow. He puts me through various workouts which, I cannot help but assume, he has made up himself.

Take for instance the "run as fast as you can in 12 minutes" exercise he demanded on my first day. During one set of bicep curls he started telling me about his childhood: a glorious time when he and his friends built a treehouse. "We made a ghetto treehouse" he said in broken English. "The only ghetto treehouse in the world I think. Do you think?"

Alfredo is a bit of a loser, but he's a good trainer.

Adjacent to the gym area is the Bamboo Spa which is heavenly: the sort of place I could stay all day long--just taking showers and playing Chutes and Ladders. There are lots of elegant candles set up around the room, making it like a séance with soothing music coming from the speakers in the ceiling. There is a steam bath, a sauna, a Jacuzzi and so many toiletry items I didn't even know existed.

A young man named Javier can get you anything you want to drink and he has quiet feet--so quiet that you cannot hear him when he enters the room. Being in the Bamboo Spa make any time of day feel like a Sunday afternoon--a time you just want to relax, take a cool nap, and dream of crows.

Outside the spa, up on a stage-like platform, is the rooftop pool. I generally do 20-30 laps with goggles or 10-15 when I forget them. Around the edges of the pool are overbearing palm trees and large grey rocks. If you look close enough at the rocks you will notice small holes and then realize that they are actually speakers designed to look like rocks--as if it's Halloween for them year-round.

The pool area has its own towels, as does the gym and the spa and you're not supposed to mix them up. Like some sort of towel-immigration at the entrance of each, with people in uniforms stopping you from bringing foreign towels (and the diseases they carry) across borders.

My new Panama City fitness exercise facilities are really quite something. You can purchase memberships at the Bamboo Spa at very reasonable monthly rates. They don't have attitude which is something I've always liked about The Veneto. They also don't have any of the muscle men which is a big improvement from steroid-centric monsters at Sport Tec Fitness Center. They say never go into a casino with money in your pockets and I agree--because I just wear my running shorts. They don't even have pockets.