NAKED AND LOST
There are worse things than being naked in the tanning bed during an earthquake. Yesterday I took I took advantage of an upgrade in my tanning package and used the standup. I can’t handle this bed for more than 8-10 minutes because it gets so hot.
Sure enough, after two minutes I was roasting. I turned around. Of course it didn’t make a difference, there was no change of scenery and it burned the same in all directions. It just made me feel like I was in charge. I turned around a couple of more times until I began to feel like a chicken roasting on a spit. Just when I thought I was going to be fried crispy, it shut off.
Everything was dark. I reached out to push the door open. Nothing happened. I felt a screw and moved my hands up and down to find the crack and push the door open. “Don’t panic.” I thought to myself in a panic. I moved my hands to another panel and pushed. There was no sign of an opening. WHO GETS LOST IN A TANNING BED!
Obviously I had locked the door to the room so it might be an hour before they remembered I was in here. This bed wasn’t one of the regulars after all. Even if I yelled for help they would have to find the key to unlock the door or take it off the hinges if they couldn’t find the key. By then I might pass out from the heat. And what if they couldn’t get the door to the bed open either? They would have to call 911. There would be reporters.
I reached my hands to the side walls again to see if I could find the door. Nope. Now might be a great time for a full on panic attack. I started to slap my hands around in the cubicle and pushing on everything. Then I saw the door. It was behind me. All that turning around had me disoriented.
I wanted to shout out songs of joy but at the same time I ralized the ugly truth. I really couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag.
Was having brown legs really worth all this trouble? Oh the pains of vanity.
There are worse things than being naked in the tanning bed during an earthquake. Yesterday I took I took advantage of an upgrade in my tanning package and used the standup. I can’t handle this bed for more than 8-10 minutes because it gets so hot.
Sure enough, after two minutes I was roasting. I turned around. Of course it didn’t make a difference, there was no change of scenery and it burned the same in all directions. It just made me feel like I was in charge. I turned around a couple of more times until I began to feel like a chicken roasting on a spit. Just when I thought I was going to be fried crispy, it shut off.
Everything was dark. I reached out to push the door open. Nothing happened. I felt a screw and moved my hands up and down to find the crack and push the door open. “Don’t panic.” I thought to myself in a panic. I moved my hands to another panel and pushed. There was no sign of an opening. WHO GETS LOST IN A TANNING BED!
Obviously I had locked the door to the room so it might be an hour before they remembered I was in here. This bed wasn’t one of the regulars after all. Even if I yelled for help they would have to find the key to unlock the door or take it off the hinges if they couldn’t find the key. By then I might pass out from the heat. And what if they couldn’t get the door to the bed open either? They would have to call 911. There would be reporters.
I reached my hands to the side walls again to see if I could find the door. Nope. Now might be a great time for a full on panic attack. I started to slap my hands around in the cubicle and pushing on everything. Then I saw the door. It was behind me. All that turning around had me disoriented.
I wanted to shout out songs of joy but at the same time I ralized the ugly truth. I really couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag.
Was having brown legs really worth all this trouble? Oh the pains of vanity.
