Somebody get the firehose. It's hot in here! Bikram Choudhury, the ageless master of hot yoga also known as Bikram Yoga, taught a class in Munich yesterday. Despite the onset of a massive migraine, I fought my 
way through rush-hour traffic for what I thought would be a 90 minute class with Mr. Choudhury. It started promptly at 6:30 pm with the guru himself greeting us in his tight black speedo-like pants. In my yoga hot pants and Jockey top, I felt clearly overdressed.
He was nothing like I thought he might be. In fact, he was incredibly down to earth. I knew the moment I overheard him say to the reporter who interviewed him before class, "You tell your boyfriend that and you'll have the best sex of your life!", that I was in good hands. His light banter, firey insults, and charming demeanor were surprising. His rigor was not.
With forty-four other bodies, we inhaled, exhaled, sweat bombs, not bullets, and for the next three hours, stretched, groaned and applauded. It was masterful.
Afterwards, he signed his latest book, Bikram Yoga: The Guru Behind Hot Yoga Shows the Way to Radiant Health and Personal Fulfillment.
Folks, despite my doubts, I lived to blog about it. My migraine ran for the hills. And I feel healed and a thousand pounds lighter.
