Mystic Tan

It is about this time of year, every year, when I'm reminded of how painfully Albino-like I am. My choices are either white or red skin. I choose the less painful white. But there was one summer when I was orange.

My mother is very interested in my physical appearance.

"Those jeans make you look fat." She'd say out of the blue.

"You need a haircut. You look like a Beatle." She'd inform me, unprovoked.

"Josh. You're so pale...I can't even look at you. How are you going to get a date like that?" She'd shudder.

My parents live in South Carolina and have fabulous tans. I live in Boston where there's about 340 days of clouds, rain, or snow and about 20 days of pesky interruption by the sun. When I fly home to visit they always seem to forget this. I'll make my way out of the airport gate and they will be waiting for me at baggage claim.

"I could see you coming a mile away! You're a big, pale beacon!" Mom would greet me squinting.

One summer I flew down to visit them with my friend Leanne for a week. We mentioned how we wanted to go to the beach the next day. My mom looked suddenly horrified.

"You can't go to the beach like that!"

"Like what?" I asked.

"That PALE!" She groaned. "Everyone will think you're a yankee.

"I AM a yankee."

"Not in this house. We need you to blend in. What would the neighbors think if they saw you leaving here like that?"

"That you keep me locked in the attic?" I retorted.

"Probably!" She moaned. "You need to get a tan before you can go to a public beach."

"That's kind of the point of going to a beach in the first place."

"Absolutely not. You're getting a tan first."

"How?!" I shouted.

"I'm making a tanning appointment for both of you tomorrow. No buts." She declared.

I thought that laying in a tanning bed for 30 minutes wouldn't be so bad, so I didn't think much of her demand. If it would allow me to go to the beach unmolested, so be it.

In the morning she drove us over to a nearby stripmall. The sign out front said "Mystic Tan" and again, I didn't think anything of it. Inside I expected to see a bunch of coffin-like tanning beds and not much else. Instead, there was a grand, spa-looking lobby with curtains shrouding the back. Above the reception desk was a list of services.

Mystic Tans:
Level 1: $30
Level 2: $40
Level 3: $50

My mom informed the receptionist that we would be needing a Level 3 immediately. She looked at us and nodded agreement.

"Have y'all ever been here befo'?" She asked.

We shook our heads no.

"Have y'all ever had a Mystic Tan befo'?"

We shook our heads no.

"Ummkay, well follow me and I'll show y'all what to do."

She led us back behind a series of curtains into a private sitting area. Surrounding the area were a series of black shower stalls with a curtain leading into each one.

"Inside these two stalls is where your tanning experience will begin." She pointed to two designated Level 3 stalls. "You will remove your clothing out here first, and then proceed into these here stalls when ready. Once inside, there will be a display monitor with instructions and an audio recording will guide you through the process. It's quick, painless, and more efficient than traditional tanning beds. You've come to the right place to get a beautiful, instant tan without the tanlines. Do y'all have any questions?"

Leanne and I looked at each other and shook our heads.

"Good. Y'all will do just fahn. Relax and enjoy yo'selves. I'll see y'all back out front when you're dried off and got yo'selves dressed again." She walked through the curtains to the front desk area.

We didn't waste any time stripping down to nothing and tossing our clothes on the floor. We both wanted to be done quickly and get to the beach. When naked, we walked over to our designated stalls and peeked through the black curtains inside.

"Mine's pitch black..." I said

"Mine too." She said with an echo—her head poking through the curtain.

"You go first." I whined.

"No. You." She said.

"Together." We said in unison.

We pulled our curtains of our gas chambers aside, stepped upward and inward, then closed the curtain behind us. Small floor lights lit up after entering, like you'd see on an airplane. A 6 inch monitor on the wall infront of me flicked on and started playing a prerecorded welcome message. The woman's voice indicated that I should listen carefully to ensure the best possible tan.

"Please stand on the indicated footprints on the floor, and hold your arms out straight to the sides as indicated." (It showed a picture of a woman with her arms level to her shoulders and held out.) "Tanning spray will be released from the nozzles directly in front of you, and will cover the front of your body with tanning solution. Please do not move from this position until asked to turn around to ensure even spray on your front and backside. In just a moment, your mystic tanning experience will begin."

"It's about to start!" I shouted over to Leanne.

"Yup. It's kind of exciting!" She shouted back.

We waited anxiously for our "tanning experience" to begin.

A minute or two went by and nothing was happening in my stall. My arms were getting tired.

"Is anything happening in your stall?" I yelled.

"No! Is yours doing anything?" She yelled back.

"No!" I shouted, "Maybe we should go—" A hard blast of tanning solution erupted into my mouth with a hiss.

"KAHK...WHORK...GAH..." I choked and coughed, doubled over and dropped to my knees.

"YEEEEEEP!" I heard Leanne shriek, followed by loud bangs as she smashed into the walls.

Above me, I could hear the spray jets blasting over my head and hitting the curtain behind. My mouth was on fire from my open-mouthed blast of Mystic Hellfire. My eyes were burning from Satan's spray and I was completely blind. I couldn't see that the spray nozzles were actually descending on the opposite wall, and were nearing me. I was hacking up Mystic Sewage and rubbing furiously at my eyes when it started pelting me in the head. The unexpected force of it sent me reeling backwards and I went sailing out of the stall, taking the curtain with me. I hit the lower ground of the sitting area with a sloppy, wet thwack. Mystic Tan was continuing to spray out of the stall and directly onto the lobby floor now.

Leanne was still screaming as she burst through her stall curtain, slid on the wet floor with a SKREEE sound, and crashed down next to me in a heap. She was flailing and gagging as I flopped around on the cold, wet floor like a displaced goldfish. Tangled in the curtain and blind, I was making very little headway on getting up.

As suddenly as the spray jets started, they stopped. The only sounds in the lobby were our coughs and a gentle dripping sound from inside the stalls.

"Phase one completed," chimed the automated voice. "Please turn around 180 degrees and keep your arms raised. Tanning of your backside will begin momentarily."

We both groaned, knowing that we had to get up and get back in there or else our fronts would be bronze and our backs completely white. Shakily, we managed to get back on our feet and feel our way back to our stalls. My mouth, nose, eyes, and throat were burning as I climbed back inside and turned around with my arms out wide, this time bracing them against the stall walls. I was not going to be bested by this Mystic Bitch.

The cold liquid blasted against the back of my head and shoulders, sending goosebumps down my body. I shivered and shook, but held my footing despite the slippery, wet floor. I could hear Leanne screaming again and heard a thud as she fell down a second time. Panicking, I took a step forward to exit the stall and make sure she was okay. I lost my footing and the continuous blast of Mystic Shit sent me over the edge, crashing onto the lobby floor yet again, and skittering several across the slick tiles with a SQUEEE! I opened my eyes to see Leanne crawling out of her stall on hand and knees, Mystic Napalm firing over her head.

"UGH!" She was sobbing through closed eyes, clawing her way over to my twisted body.

"IT HURTS and BURNS!" I wailed.

The front desk receptionist must have heard our cries from the war zone and burst through the curtain to see us in a heap—Mystic Death squirting unabated from the stalls and further slicking the floors.

"Oh mah lord!" She screamed. "What in the hell happened to y'all?"

"Make it stop!" I begged.

"Full body tanning complete. Please exit the stall and proceed to the air drying station." Chimed the Mystic Whore from the stall.

"I am NOT going to the 'air drying station!' You can't make me!" I yelled at the receptionist standing over our nakedness.

After we dried off, inspected our wounds, and pulled our clothes back on, we returned to the front desk area where my mother was sitting and reading Southern Living. She looked up at us and her mouth dropped open.

"What the hell happened to you?" She exclaimed, getting up from her chair to inspect us.

"Mystic Tan happened to us!" I barked at her, furious for making us go through this, just to go to the beach.

"You're both orange! And spotted! It's awful!" We looked down at ourselves and confirmed that she was correct. We were indeed bright orange in splotches and white in others—like a creamsicle that's been unevenly licked.

"You have to go back!" She yelled at us, then turned to the receptionist, "You have to do it again! You have to fix them!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, we can't allow that. It's a mess back there. I need to spend my lunch break cleaning up. I've never seen anything like it." She tisked at us, "I've seen children get Mystic Tans with less fuss."

"Let's go." My mother commanded, grabbing us and hauling us out to the car.

As soon as the car doors closed, the tirade began. "I can't believe the two of you. I send you in to get a simple spray-on tan and you come out looking like you have leprosy. Not only was that a waste of money and time, but now I can't show my face in there again. 'Aren't you that Albino's mother? You know, the one that turned orange and flopped around on the floor like a retarded sea bass?' We're supposed to go out to dinner tonight and you look like you're dying of sepsis." She continued clucking and grumbling the rest of the way home.

When we got in the door, my father was making coffee in the kitchen.

"Holy hell!" He said wide-eyed when he saw us. "What happened? Was there an explosion?"

"Add Mystic Tan to the places we're not allowed back to." My mother spat.

We didn't go to the beach that day, nor did we go out to dinner. We ordered take out and rented a movie. While we all sat in the living room watching it, my parents sat behind Leanne and I, peeling flecks of orange off our backs while we peeled it off our legs and arms. We looked like a family of apes cleaning each other, but it did work.

After a few hours of peeling and scraping, we were back to pale and there was a pile of orange paint chips on the floor that the family dog was very interested in. In their defense, it was a very Mystic Pile.