I hover around the pull-up bar. It's the best pull-up bar in the weightroom for people under 6' tall without solid leaping skills. I fit in that demographic and so do many other shorter, less springy folk. We all keep glancing over our shoulder waiting for our chance to move in on the equipment.
A guy wearing blue seventies-style nylon shorts rushes in for a turn before I can cut him off. He does a couple of pull ups and then squats down right below the bar, placing his hands underneath his feet. He straightens his legs, hoisting his ass skyward in some sort of advanced leg stretch maneuver.
After a few minutes, he performs a hop and more pull-ups. Followed by another round of leg stretching. And some pull-ups. I monitor his activity wondering what the fuck limber hamstrings have to do with pull-ups.
I realize that I will need to ask to work in with this guy because this could go on for hours. I also realize that if I do ask to work in with him, I will have no choice but to basically march up and address his ass.
His ass agrees to my inquiry.