Be cool at the hot springs
OK, summer’s here, and that means horde upon horde of oafs, clods and dumfux are preparing to invade the precious hot-spring areas of Nevada and California. So, at the risk of being somewhat pedantic, this is as good a time as any to review the basics of hot springs etiquette, because it appears there are a whole bunch of mouth-breathers out there who haven’t a clue that there is such a thing.
Rule 1—For God’s sake, amigo, don’t park right next to the damn hot spring! This is a crucial point. I recently visited one of the nicest hot springs in this state, where I found, parked right next to the main pool, the following (I swear on a stack): A colossal motorhome, four cars, four tents, three ATVs, three dogs, one horse trailer and two horses. Which pretty much means this bunch shattered the old record for inconsiderate behavior at a hot-springs area. I mean, it would have been a simple thing for these imbeciles to set up their wretched camp 50 or 60 yards away from the actual spring, but, being not just imbeciles, but imbeciles with their heads wedged way on up there to where no colon scope would have ever spotted them, they erected their loathsome little village right next to the spring!
That meant I, the out-of-luck newcomer, had two chances to enjoy a peaceful soak—fat and slim. I found out later, from a gent who had quite properly parked his motorhome about 100 yards from the spring, that this cluster of shoe-sniffing booger-eaters had been entrenched in this utterly thoughtless position for six days. Six! Upon hearing that, I retired to my trailer and prayed with all my heart for every one of these people, even the kids, to be stricken with penicillin-resistant cases of rectal hot-tub gonorrhea.
Rule 2—Don’t bring your baby or toddler to hot springs. No creature wearing Huggies should ever be anywhere near these precious pools. Before allowing children in, make sure they’re housebroken.
Rule 3—Please don’t inflict your music upon the rest of us. I’m thinking back to one recent, tranquil afternoon, when a big truck rumbled on in. Naturally, the guy drove up and stopped right next to the spring. Classic. He popped out, then his buddy and their two dates. The doors of the truck, however, weren’t closed, but, ominously enough, remained open. I knew right then and there the rest of us were in trouble. Something told me we were all gonna hear some tunes, whether we wanted to or not. And something told me these tunes weren’t going to be along the lines of, say, Enya or Mozart. I don’t know, call it a hunch. Sure enough, within seconds, the area was assaulted by some country band’s mangled cover of ZZ Top’s “Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers,” put forth at a volume that could crumple a gas can. So please, when at hot springs, do not, repeat, do not, share your music with us. Your music, generally speaking, sucks.
Rule 4—Review Rule 1. Memorize. Obey. Forever and ever.