A close call...

So, i went to a cycling class today thinking it would be better than the "kickboxing" class i took last week. I mean, really, how could a cycling class be mucked up? So, after eating a kabob from Fatoosh (lebanese fast food) and doing a few hours of work, i gear up to join the cycling class offered at the hotel gym. So, I'm feeling all pumped up by my Jammie Jam mix on my nano and I enter the class. There's one lady, already on a bike. No instructor yet. I stretch and get on the bike to warm up. Instructor shows up 15 minutes late. We begin...of course, to some house/trance (E, couldn't decipher between the two.), which I believe is the national genre of music. Hamees, that's the Instructor, is cut, tall, good english and everything; unfortunately, i don't think he's ever rode on a cycling bike for more than 20 minutes consecutively. Enter big fat Greek man <>. He takes the last bike between me and the lady. So, we're riding, riding, faster, slower, up, down, push ups (yes, on the bike), up, down...etc. (Hamees looks like he's about to die; keeps getting off the bike to mess around with the music.) Then ...i hear a rumble, rumble; unfortunately, Slick Rick is not playing and there's no mirror, mirror on the wall, it's my stomach...dun, dun, DUN! I ease off pedaling, stretch my arms out casually, proceed to go in the crouching position, as if I'm trying to pick up speed. I'm sweating, although, i don't think it was from the cycling. Can't ...hold...much ...longer....trying all sorts of things to alleviate the stressful situation. Breathing, crouching, ...(the Greek man stank is not helping at this point). Rumble, rumble...and then, i did what anyone would do...i dismounted, penguin stepped to retrieve my things, then penguin stepped quickly to the exit (mind you there's only four ppl in the class, including myself) and didn't look back...phew! what a frickin workout!