This one did not make it into the “Stories From the Dating Trenches,” but it’s one of my fondest funny dating memories… BTW: If you want to see these stories before they hit my blog, you and join the Facebook Group “The Date Diva.”
No Bake, Just Fake
My good friend, and soul sister, Karen and I decided to get spray tans a day before our vacation to Hawaii. Since I lack any tanning capabilities, this seemed like a great idea. I didn’t want to blind anyone at the beach, and a fake tan would at least make it look like I had some sort of pigmentation. Karen knew of a brand new place that had just started offering spray-on-tans, and we booked our appointments at 10 a.m. We had planned a full day of packing, spray tanning and then we were to meet up with our double dates for an outdoor Greek festival. Everything was timed out perfectly.
Upon arriving at the tanning place, we were greeted by the owner who gave us a quick tour of the set up. It featured a secluded modular spraying booth which you could only get to by entering through a row of closet-sized rooms. Each small dressing room had a special release-system lock which allowed only one person at a time to enter into the spray booth area. Being paranoid, I was scared that the release system wouldn’t work while I was stark naked, white, and heading into the spray room. I decided to leave on my bikini bottoms, just in case. We were all set to go in our separate booths, and I had the honor of going first.
Assume the Position
If you’ve ever experienced a spray tan booth, you know that there is a little bit of work involved on your part during the application process. By this I mean that you have to move around and pose in specific positions while being misted by a machine that is much like an automatic car-wash. To help with this complex task, there was a clearly displayed chart of all the positions. The instructions were quite specific, and I was concerned that I’d forget a pose and end up with an uneven tan. Ahh, the pressure.
There were four positions that I was to strike: The first was an Egyptian-like pose with praying hands while standing with one foot forward and the other back. It reminded me of the old Charlie’s Angels’ TV logo. Once a blast of spray hit you, then the second pose was to be executed by quickly turning to the side and assuming a position like you were surrendering to the police. For the third stance, you needed to flip around again and with another Angels pose, but instead switch around your feet from the first position. Finally, the fourth stance was a down-turned surrender pose. It’s a lot to remember while you’re blinded by mist from sporadic blasts of liquid flying at you. On top of all that, I was told to hold my breath when it sprayed. Good Lord. The experience was stressful, to say the least.
Kegger Flashback
When my ordeal was finally over, I staggered out of the booth wet, half naked and light headed from trying to hold my breath. It kind of reminded me of a fraternity party. My vision was a bit hazy too, since I got a good dose of tanner in my eyes during pose #3. I found my dressing room, blinked repeatedly to regain my eyesight, and then I looked in the mirror. At first I gasped, and then I tried to sound calm as Karen yelled from her booth, “How does it look?” I gleefully answered, “Wow! I can’t wait to see how you like it!” I heard her door beep open and then it was Karen’s turn to do the spray tan gyrations.
I listened intently as the mechanical spray booth blasted my friend. I could hear her stumbling around while trying to hit poses, and I think there was a little scream after the first shot doused her with tanner. I wondered if she had made the same mistakes I had, such as breathing in a full-on dose of spray mist. A few minutes later I heard the machine stop and then Karen’s door shut. There was a long silence followed by Karen astonished muttering of, “Oh… my… God.”
The Big Reveal!
Within minutes, we both emerged from our dressing rooms, looked at each other and then burst out laughing. We were definitely tan. Well, actually not tan, but very, very, very dark. So dark, that one could describe us as mocha. The inexperienced owner apparently over used the “marker” in the spray, giving us a rich and rather unnatural shade of brown. The good news was that our teeth appeared to be dazzlingly white and our blue eyes glowed like neon signs.
The owner, who was pretending that everything was normal, calmly said, “Remember, you can’t take a shower for at least 8 hours.” What? But we were meeting out dates in less than 5 hours!
Forecast: Rain
Karen look hilarious, and I looked even worse. Between laughing hysterically and trying to catch our breath, we made a pact that neither of us would wash off the spray, especially since we’d paid top dollar for our pre-Hawaii tans. We made a pinkie-swear to seal the deal, and then we phoned our dates to warned them of our debacle. I also told my date not to wear white just in case I was transferable. We also agreed that if the forecast for rain was correct, we would be diving under the nearest tree.
Our dates were amused at our deeply tanned faces and acted like everything was fine. Trust me, people were gawking. Although we looked like freaks, we still managed to have a great time… until it started to sprinkle outside.
What became of our dates? Karen ended up marrying her guy a couple of years later, and my date won’t talk to me to this day. But that’s a different story…