Not long after 4 a.m., as I whirled away on the elliptical machine at my local gym, three men on the machines behind me were engaged in conversation. Two, a 60-something Hispanic and 52-year-old African American junior-high school teacher who often came at that time, were talking politics with a 50-something Anglo who, I’d never seen before. Wearing a gray sweatsuit with a towel tucked around his neck, he hunched over the machine and cycled slowly.

It started innocently, the white guy butting in on a conversation between the other two gentleman about how the teacher was thinking about taking dancing lessons. The man said how great it was to do something new, to put different things in your life. That when one thing gets boring, you can go on to something else.

“Last night, for example, I was at Encanto Park with a bunch of buddies practicing kenpo. That’s a martial art. For two hours we’re beating the hell out of each other. Sure, I have a few bruises, but I’ll live. And I delivered a few bruises as well. Enough to be remembered, you know?”

No, I don’t know. But what happened next, yeah, that’s what I’ll remember him for.

“Barack Obama scares me.”

Yup, just like that. The teacher, being a teacher, asked him why.

This is the monologue, as I remember it. And I remember it pretty well.

“Well, a lot of reasons. First, the Muslim thing. He says he isn’t a Muslim. OK. But then he dresses like a Muslim. What’s that about? Muslims aren’t like us. Sure, some of them are OK, but al-Qaida? Muslim. Terrorists? Muslim. There’s something seriously wrong with people who only want to spread violence.

“But past that, I just don’t know what he stands for. Let’s take the economy. Nobody wants to talk about it, but we’re headed to a depression, just like the 30s. It’s not if, only when. People are blind if they can’t see it. This country is going to be in sorry shape and no one is doing anything about it.

“Then gun control. That’s a huge thing. Terrorists are coming here, if they’re not here already. And unless everyone carries a gun, we can’t defend ourselves. They’re gonna come over here and just take us over if we’re not careful. Al-Qaida knows that, knows we’re soft. Unless we do something about that right away, and I don’t mean a year from now, I mean now, it’s going to be bad. And all those people who wanted gun control are going to see what it cost them.

“Here’s the thing – you know how that guy walked into that college class and started shooting? No one could defend themselves. No one. But if just one guy had a gun, game over. The shooter would have been toast. And all those people who died would be alive today. A happy ending. But no, we don’t want guns in schools. As long as we continue with that mentality, more innocent people are going to die.

“You know what we need to do, right? Everyone should have a gun. Take them to the mall, school, church, wherever. Because when that one guy who wants to kill people takes out his gun, forget it. He’s gone. But see, that’s the thing. He knows everyone has a gun, and you know what happens? He never even takes it out. Everyone is safe. Guns keep us safe. Now you’re getting my point, right? How can you argue with that? You just can’t.

“Remember what I said about the depression? It’s gonna be bad. Real bad. If people were smart, this is what they’d start doing now. First, get their money out of banks before it becomes worthless. Next, buy a bunch of water and food. A ton. More than they thought they would ever need. Then get rifles, pistols, maybe two or three per person. And lots of ammo. Like food, more than they’d think they’d ever need. Now they’re ready. When the depression hits, hunker down because there will be people who will come for them. Because they were ready and no one else is. That’s what I’m doing. I’m taking no chances.”

A series of beeps interrupted him and the two other gentleman climbed off their machines. As did he, following the older man into the weight-machine area.

About 10 minutes later I saw the teacher working out with free weights.

“Nice friend you made,” I said.

“That was disturbing,” he said. “People like that make me really nervous.”

“No kidding.”

I hit the shower, hoping to wash all that crap off.