October 4. Steam room

“I should really talk to a man,” I think as I walk towards the steam room/ sauna after yoga. “The gym is the best place to find a new guy. There’s no sense in dating anyone who gets winded too easily. ”

A really handsome man about to enter the sauna sees me, turns around to walk, then looks back over his shoulder to look at me again.

“I hate him. I fucking hate him. I can hear his thoughts from across the room,” I think. “I’m going to the steam room so there’s no chance of him talking to me.”

Obviously, I’m conflicted.

A few weeks ago, Hannah and I went to Surrender Nightclub on a Wednesday, and we had to fight our way out through a drunken, horny, tourist grope tunnel at 3 a.m.. Men were physically grabbing at us and trying to block our path.

One guy told me to go kill myself when I told him I wasn’t interested in sleeping with him.

I'd like to find a new man, but I’m too sick of men, and a bit disgusted, to want to talk to any of them, which makes finding a new one difficult.

Hell, this is a real problem.

Maybe the guy who taught the spin class I took before my yoga class tonight would work?

During the class he told us all that he’s single. He has a four-year-old girl he loves a lot, and he is not together with the mother, but they’re on good terms. Also, he implied that he’s lonely.

I’ve never shared any of this information with any of my yoga classes.

“Inhale your arms up. Real quick, I cry myself to sleep at night sometimes. Exhale, swan dive forward. I just want someone to cuddle me. Inhale gazing up.”

He was cute and does cardio. Maybe I’ll talk to him next week.

I figure the gym would be a good place to find a new Las Vegas boy because I work out like it’s my job… oh yeah. It is my job. I work out a lot. And I like men who have the same addictions as me.

I should talk to a man at my gym. But I’m always so rude whenever a man tries to talk to me at the gym, that I simply can’t bring myself to do it. I always think, “Hey buddy, what about my no makeup, yoga matt, and ponytail made you think I wanted you to bug me?"

Me approaching a guy would throw off the whole dynamic. He’s supposed to approach me so I can be all cold and mean and shit and then slowly warm up to him after he’s persisted long enough.

What happened to meeting guys the old fashioned way? You know, dating a guy I kind of like and then meeting his awesome friend I really like and then ditching him to start dating his friend? 

Time in the steam room: 10 minutes

Men talked to: Zero 

July 28: Steam Room

Other than the maybe dead man laying in the middle of the road, this has been one of The Most Amazing weekends I've ever had in Las Vegas!

 Take note, all other Las Vegas weekends, this is how I would like this shit to go all of the time. 

If I could relive this weekend, and relive it, and relive it, I would. Exactly three more times I'd relive it. Then, I'd like to do something else.

However, staying up all night being young and aggressively strange has its price. I must sweat out these toxins asap. My skin is not nearly as happy as I am today. I head straight from the strip to the steam room. 

Because it's early morning, I'm the only one in the steam room. Fantastic. I close my eyes and cross my legs. But it's not hot enough. I like it almost too hot to stand. 

I get the hose, to spray the sensor, to turn on the steam. While I'm standing, a man and woman enter. The man takes over spraying duties.

"Champagne!" the woman laughs when the steam pops on loudly. Fitting because that's what I've been drinking all night.

I sit back down. The man and woman begin talking, and I know they'll talk the whole time. They've just met. Based on her accent, the woman is from Russia. The man is flirting with her and it seems he may actually have a chance. At least she's willing to talk to him. This is further than men get with me in the steam room because of the No Talking rule. I take the rules I make up very seriously. 

I wonder if he did die. The man in the road. Three men stood around him calling  911, protecting him from drunken 2 am traffic. I sat in my car and stared. What a way to start the night. 

Ambulances drive by every day, and it makes me sad. I wonder: what's happened, what's burning, who's in trouble, whose final day has come, who finally gets to be asleep forever... Asleep. Forever.

I'd like to go to sleep. I've been awake for a long time. 

Last night, two roads away, when I saw the ambulance turn on its lights, I didn't have to wonder, I knew where it was going. To the maybe dead man laying in the road. 

It really was a great weekend! Maybe a pool party today! 

Time: 12 minutes

July 26: Steam Room

Only me and two men today.

I'm thinking about the boy. Months ago, I recommended he read a book because it reminded me of us, but it's not actually that great of a book. Our story is better and we're much better characters.

I imagine his disgusted face as he wonders why I recommended something so mediocre to him. I smile as I think about him frowning.

"Thinking of something funny?" one of the men asks me.

"No, not really," I answer.

"Because you were smiling and looked like you were thinking of something funny..."

"No."

He gives up on the conversation. Everyone sits in silence.

I forgot my water again. It was embarrassing. I went into auto pilot and drove to the wrong gym. I was fifteen minutes late to my class. Luckily, they all waited, because I called ahead, and it was a good workout even if it was 10 minutes shorter than usual.

I drink from the hose.

I think I'm an idiot, but I also think that's not a very nice thing to call myself. I do my best, and that's all I can expect of me. And think of the hundreds of times I drove my car to the correct gym! That must count for something. Not just any idiot can do that!

I leave to sit in the women's steam room. Me and two women. One woman leaves. The other woman farts. I consider adding no farting to the steam room rules, but I decide against it.

Time: 14 minutes

July 25: Steam Room

I forgot my water bottle in my car. I drink from the hose.

Four others sit quietly. I close my eyes and my mind is quiet. I open them and only me and one other man remain. I close them and feel the toxins leave my body. I scratch my arm and there's black under my finger nails. Only a few days out of Vegas without my yoga/steam room routine and I have black gunk in my pores?

I'm happy to be back in Vegas where no one can see me unless I want them to, and I can write and read and do yoga and sit in steam rooms.

Time: 13 minutes

July 22: Sauna

I'm visiting Pat and Ryan for a vacation. We all love music and dancing, and that's why we're friends.

I met Pat at a Pretty Lights concert in Las Vegas. Then, I met Ryan when all three of us were at Ultra Music Festival in Miami. Then, they came to Vegas for a weekend, and I moved into the Hard Rock with them, and Pat and I stole money from Buddha so we could buy a bottle of vodka.

Ryan is gone for the day listening to music and dancing, but I'm lazy and Pat's saving money, and we stay home.

Pat and I go to the apartment's sauna. Guest appearance sauna. The sauna is in the women's bathroom of the apartment complex. The one in the men's room is broken. I go in first, check the coast is clear, and then Pat joins me.

Neither of us are sweating yet. It feels like we're burning in a tanning bed.

"Here! This will make it better!" Pat leaves to shower quickly, right outside of the sauna, and comes back. Now he's all glistening and pretty. I want to be glistening and pretty too. I  shower and return.

It's a very small sauna, claustrophobic if I look ahead, but really good if I look toward Pat.

"Let's meditate!" says Pat. Pat reads Today in the Steam Room and knows that the sauna is meant to be quiet meditation time.

"Okay!" I explain to Pat how I meditate. We sit quietly focusing on our breathing. Pat starts laughing about a thought he's had and that ends the mediation. Good. It's exhausting to focus on nothing.

Pat turns off the light, and it's very dark now. I lay down and pretend I'm dead, entombed in wood and heat.

We hear a woman enter the bathroom. She's coughing - a smoker's cough. I listen to her pee. I hope she doesn't take a poo. I wonder if Pat could be arrested for being a pervert - hiding in the dark of the women's room sauna listening to a coughing woman peeing.

"I'm really hot," Pat says. "I'm going to get out now."

We leave to listen to music.

Time: 20 minutes

July 11: Steam Room

It’s only me and four people - two couples. Low visibility. Lots of room. 

          "He's expressed some concern about sharing the hotel room with four people," the woman in her 60s says to her husband. 

"What about sharing a hotel room?" the husband grumbles. 

"That it'll be crowded. I asked him if it was more crowded in prison. He worked in a prison for a while. I told him that I thought these were much different accommodations."

The other couple talks in a language of sinister-sounding whispers. Is it racist to think that a language I can't understand sounds sinister? 

An attractive Asian man enters. He sits as close to me as possible while maintaining acceptable space. I look over at him briefly, and make eye contact. 

“Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” I say, turning quickly to focus forward.

He puts on headphones, turns on music, and assumes a confident, relaxed position.

Nice. I like it. He’s following all of the rules. 

He starts singing along with the music in a loud whisper.

I spoke too soon. 

shhhShut up.

I silence him with my thoughts. Great! My mind-control abilities grow stronger by the day! I congratulate myself on my growing powers.

Next, he lies down and begins to do leg lifts. He’s grunting, breathing heavy and working out at a frantic pace. He’s breaking the No excessive, disruptive movements rule. 
He's doing leg lifts wrong, using momentum to bring his legs up and down instead of his muscles. I stare ahead, ignoring the heavy breathing.

He stands in front of me. He places his hands on the seats to the right and his feet on the seats to the left so that he’s now in a push up position over empty space in my direct line of view. He begins doing pushups. Okay, fine, you win. I count along silently.

1… 2… 3… 4… he is kind of cute… 5… 6… keep going… 7…8…9… I’m growing more impressed by the pump… 10… 11… 12… Should I clap when he’s done? 13… 14… … 15… 16… mmm… 17… 18… 19… 20. 

He finishes and stands right as another handsome muscled man enters.

Oh! Maybe the two shirtless men will begin competing in physical acts of strength and endurance to win my affections! Cuhhmmm onnn, please? 

With another alpha male present, the Asian man can’t keep vigorously pumping away without risking potential ridicule. The Asian man sits down quietly and leaves shortly after.

I leave and enter the women’s room and go in to the smaller steam room. Two pretty young girls sit quietly inside. It’s pink colored in here and it smells like lavender. This is awesome! The girls and I all sit quietly together. I sigh contentedly. 

One girl leaves. I stand and sit - indecisive. The remaining girl looks up. She must use Latisse because her eyelashes are long and pretty. I should use Latisse too. 

“I can’t decide if I want to leave or not! I keep changing my mind!” I say. We laugh. I like her. She has a nice smile, and she was nice to me. 

Time: 30 minutes

July 10: Sauna

I'm in the smaller sauna at the smaller gym, because I subbed a morning yoga class. Only me and one silent man. I lay down. I can hear and see three older men talking clearly outside of the glass door.

"A respected theologian said that he doesn't consider Scientology a religion. If it's not a religion than what is it? Apparently, the Scientologists built a nine million dollar mansion out in the middle of nowhere in California. The mansion is so that when L. Ron Hubbard returns he'll have somewhere to live. Isn't that ridiculous? A big empty mansion for when L. Ron Hubbard returns."

If L. Ron Hubbard and Jesus return to Earth at the same time, Jesus is gonna be so jealous.

Maybe Jesus can live in L. Ron Hubbard's guest house.

The skepticism fits. This weekend, I'm "dancing" with Penn Jillette's NoGodBand, at Penn Jillette's Private Bacon and Doughnut Rock and Roll Dance Party, adjacent to TAM, an annual celebration of science, skepticism, and critical thinking held every summer here in Vegas.

"What does a fish know about the water in which he swims all his life?"

The men continue their talk.

"Mormonism's got to be the silliest though. Some of the things they believe are ridiculous. They have holy underwear that's supposed to protect them."

"Seriously? Magic underwear? That is silly."

Cuhhmmm ohhn, that's not fair. All religious beliefs are equally silly. No one's beliefs are sillier than anyone else's.

In Einstein's book, Out of My Later Years, one of my favorites, he talks about science and religion.

"All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree. All these aspirations are directed toward ennobling man's life, lifting it from the sphere of mere physical existence and leading the individual toward freedom."

Einstein explains that the question of the sages throughout history had been how to encourage the common man to live a life of love. Their answer was to attach these guidelines for better living to religion.

I've reluctantly been in sales for what feels like my entire life. If only I could sell my "wares" to people by telling them that they'll be rewarded when they die... If only all manipulations could be so simple.

"At least religion tricks stupid people in to not killing each other," Jim said.

Einstein explains that our disillusion with religion is due to realizing the stories we were told were bunk. But just because the stories aren't true, doesn't mean that their aim was.

"But this part of the Bible can't possibly be true! Therefore, there's no God! There's nothing more than shitting, eating, fucking and dying."

Maybe that's true, but a book written thousands of years ago being proven inaccurate doesn't prove anything. It proves people wrote and distributed a book a long time ago. That's all that proves.

As long as religion reaches towards love then I'm for it. But we've bastardized the word to such an extent that it's synonymous with ignorant people spewing hate and being cruel in the name of "God."

"I pay 1,700 dollars a month for health insurance," one of the old men says. I guess, that's because he's much more likely to get sick and die, any day now, than I am.

"What a drag it is getting old!"

Time: 19 minutes

July 6: Sauna

Only me and two Mexican men. I lay down and concentrate on how sweat feels when it forms on my face.

Out with the old toxins, in with the new toxins.

The Mexican men are having a conversation. I close my eyes and concentrate on how much I can understand. About 1/4th. Maybe I'll break out my Spanish Rosetta Stone... if I could find it. This is why I can't have nice things.

The two men talk for the duration. I'm not annoyed until the end when they get loud. White people are the quietest, other than Asians. I think black people are louder than latinos, but latinos are still too loud for me.

A few minutes before I leave, one of the men leaves.

"Sorry about the conversation," the remaining man says.

If you were really sorry you wouldn't have done it in the first place.

Time: 20 minutes

July 5: Steam Room

Ben, from last week, is in my yoga class.

“See you downstairs!” he says as I head out. Fuck. 

Ben thinks of the steam room as his cheeky chance to build rapport with me. I must nip this problem in the bud.

The sauna is closed today and the steam room is very crowded. Twelve of us huddle together in the mist.

Two men talk loudly by the door about the merits of sauna vs. steam room.

“The sauna is better for you,” the man says. “If you’re getting a cold then go into the sauna with a lot of water and a shot of whiskey with some lemon and honey in it. Then you stay in there for at least an hour. You’ll be fine. But if you come in to the steam room and you’re about to have a cold then you’ll be sick for weeks. The wetness of the steam room will make you sick.”

Humm. The No Talking rule for the steam room reminds me of the No Smoking Marijuana rule for the USA. While it’s technically on the books, no one gives a damn or pays it any mind. It’s only still in place because of strong lobbyist support.

If I were the steam room dictator there would be silence. 

Ben comes in and finds me through the mist. He encroaches my already cramped personal space further.

“Was it just me or was everyone sweating a lot during that yoga class! Great class!” Ben says. Fuck him. No respect for the rules.

“Thanks. Awesome,” I smile in a tight, little way that hopefully will let Ben know that that was the extent of the conversation. 

“So, yeah, yoga is really good for you to do all of the time,” Ben says. I nod almost imperceptivity then adjust my body language, bringing my knee up next to my torso then resting my bent arm on the leg – a wall of limbs. I stare doggedly ahead.

“Right, isn’t it a great workout?” Tenacious bastard.

“Yup.” Ben doesn’t talk anymore, but I’m forced to maintain my fuck off body language or else invite further conversation. He's poised, ready to pounce. A person leaves to my left, and I adjust away from Ben towards the open space.

While last week, I didn’t count our conversation as breaking the “no hitting on people in the steam room rule,” this week it can’t be interpreted as anything else. I hate him. He’s ruining sauna "me time."  

When I leave, I stand quickly and walk out without saying goodbye to Ben. 

He follows me out.

“Bye Leah!” he yells after me as I enter the women’s locker room.

There’s a much smaller sauna in the women’s locker room. I enter.

Two young girls squawk loudly about clothes, hair, and heels. I can’t win today. We watch an old naked woman shower with the stall door open.

"Why do old people shower with the stall door open?" one of the girls asks.

When I'm old, I'm going to shower with the stall door open too, I decide. That way, the young girls in the sauna will be forced to watch my naked body being sprayed with water while they sweat. Actually, why wait until I'm old? I could begin this very day! This momentous naked day! That old woman has amazing breasts. I hope my breasts are still that bodacious when I'm her age.

Time: 19 minutes

July 4: Sauna

“My purpose in life is to experience and share love and laughter.”

“My purpose in life is to experience and share love and laughter.”

“My purpose in life is to experience and share love and laughter.”

It’s so simple. Why have I been making it so much harder all of this time?

I repeat my Envision Yoga mission statement over and over and over again in my mind. I lay on my back with my eyes closed. I can’t believe how much I love Envision Yoga. How much I’ve missed it. It makes me feel like I can fly! It makes me feel invincible! I can’t wait to share it with everyone. I hope they love it as much as I do. I always want people to love things as much as I do. 

Only four people here today. Everyone is following the rules.

I feel as happy as I’ve ever felt, ever. 

“My purpose in life is to experience and share love and laughter.”

Yeah, it is! And not in a big, obnoxious, intrusive way. I’m not going to force my love and laughter onto anyone. It’s not that big of a mission. 

I may never achieve anything. None of my thoughts may ever be useful. I may be a magnificent failure in everything I do. I laugh at myself. Fuck my ego. 

“My purpose in life is to experience and share love and laughter.” 

I’ve done it! I’m a fabulous success! So simple this whole time. 

“This is what we live for,” Rin said. She said it about EDC and she was right. All of the preparation, all of the pain, and pretending to be stronger than I feel, and all of it, all of it was for that moment when I could laugh, smile, dance and be with my friends.

An old Asian man smiles at me. He’s been staring at me, but that’s okay. Today, it’s okay. I smile back. 

Time: 20 minutes

July 3: Sauna

I sit in a comfortable cross-legged position and close my eyes. I focus on my breath. Rising. Falling. Rising. Falling. 

It’s me and three others, two are speaking in Spanish. I don’t know why, but Spanish seems to be the exception to the No Talking rule. I’m not annoyed. I feel peaceful. Instead of zoning out, which is my default response to things I dont understand, I focus in to see how if Spanish translates to shapes, colors and ideas.

I get about 1/4 of the words. The easier ones mainly. Siempre. Nada. Always. Nothing. Always. Nothing. Nothing. Always. Always nothing. 

In a large rowdy group, six Mexican men enter, and now I’m the only one in the room of ten people without fluent Spanish. Mexico is warmer than America, both in climate and people, and probably they don’t have the no talking rule there. I might as well be in Mexico now. My rules no longer mean shit. 

I think back to when I was 16-years-old. I was living as a high school exchange student for a year in southern Brazil and learning Portuguese through immersion. This sauna is nothing new. I’m used to being the only English-speaker in a room of romance chatter.

I close my eyes, sigh, and pretend I’m a pumpkin. I make a marvelous pumpkin. 

“I feel so stupid,” I told Locky, the Australian exchange student I had a crush on when I was 16. In fact, I had a crush on all of the Australian exchange students. 

The Aussies rotated in to Brazil at different times than the northern hemisphere crowd, and this created a mentor-mentee relationship amongst the exchanges. I’d been in Brazil for 3 months, while the Aussies were at month 9. 

“I feel so stupid. I only understand about 1/4 of what’s said in Portuguese. It’s more frustrating than when I didn’t understand anything at all,” I said to Locky. 

“Pretend you’re a pumpkin,” Locky said.

“What?”

“Pumpkins can’t understand even one language let alone two. No one expects a pumpkin to understand Portuguese.”

“You’re right! I’m better at Portuguese than all of the pumpkins!”  

Ever since, whenever I’m frustrated with my performance as a human being, I pretend I’m a pumpkin.

I’m an incredibly talented pumpkin. 

The more I listen to everyone talking in Spanish, the more my exceptional pumpkin mind seems to open up to the possibility of understanding. 

I understand an entire conversation where a charismatic man discovers that tomorrow is a national holiday, asks the group if they’re teasing him and then goes on about how happy he is now. Also, there’s going to be fireworks tomorrow night at 8. I smile and laugh behind closed eyes. 

Another Mexican man enters and sits too close to me. It is crowded, but I know that he’s done it on purpose. Sitting by me. Everyone begins to clear out, and now with extra space, it’s definitely an intrusion in to my personal area. I stand and walk to the other side of the sauna to sit. 

Time: 22 minutes

July 2: Steam Room

My pee, after I finish Envision Yoga (http://envisionyoga.com/), is bright yellow. 

I enter the steam room. Visibility is low. I can’t see anyone. Out of the mist come the euphorically sexual sounds of a young man. Drinking water from the hose. 

“I’ll have what he’s having.” Which is water. I resolve to drink two water bottles before I leave.

There are only a few of us. An older man stretches as though he’s in pain. Probably the steam room is part of his physical therapy. 

Another man rocks back and forth as though he’s praying. Or crazy.

An older woman’s physicality is unimpressive, but her poise tells me she is a queen. One leg extended, the other bent, one hand resting on a leg, the other up casually, easily, back straight and crown of head towards the sky - regal. 

Two twins, female, 250lbs a piece, enter and sit with towels on their laps. I wonder what purpose a towel serves in the steam room. 

No one breaks any rules. I resolve to buy a water proof watch. I could have a true, 20 minute, eyes closed, meditation if everyone would only be quiet and I had a watch. 

I drink 1.4 liters of water. Hopefully now I will pee clear.

time: 25 minutes

July 1: Sauna

For the first five minutes, it’s only me and two men. We all have ample space. The younger man stands and stretches in an acceptably far away corner. At one point, he does ab work.The older man and I both lay down flat on our backs to claim huge sauna territories. The older man’s hands never leave his head. 

Two heavy Asian women in their early 20s come in.

“I didn’t know they made Asians that fat,” I think, and then I feel cruel and, perhaps, racist. However, I don’t not like them for their race or their heft, I don’t like them because they’re talking. I continue to think nasty thoughts about them. The heavy makeup they’re wearing, their sparkly earrings, and my becoming aware of their existence in the world - all of these things make me very unhappy. 

The Asians are clucking loudly and both the older man and I sit up, disturbed, concerned that they will continue to break the no talking rule. Gratefully, the one in a little pink skirt, one piece bathing suit, and sheer black long sleeved top decides makeup and fashion have no place in the sauna and she leaves her compatriot after less than a minute. Good. With visible relief, the older man and I return to laying on our backs. His hands return to his head.

I hold my arms up above my head and meditate as I watch the sweat running down my arms - like rain on a car windshield when I was a kid. I feel the toxins and the water leave my body - how long before I would die in this room if I simply kept laying here watching my life drain away?

Two dark skinned people, a man and a woman, come in and begin speaking in a language that I successfully identify as not being English, Portuguese, Spanish or French. 

I make heavy eye contact with the new woman and attempt to shame her in to silence using only my eyes. It doesn’t work. They show no signs of quieting and I decide to leave a few minutes early.

Time: 17 (instead of 20) minutes

June 28: Steam Room

I almost enter the sauna, but see two attractive men talking and laughing inside. I go to the steam room. 

About 10 people rotate in and out of the steam room.

Two Mexican women and a man sit together talking. Although the no talking rule is being broken, I’m not annoyed. I only understand a little Spanish, and none at all if I unfocus my mind. Blessedly, I’m not privy to whatever minutia is being discussed. It’s smooth jazz.

A blonde girl enters wearing a red t-shirt and shorts. Everyone was evenly spaced apart before she entered.

The area between me and the Mexican man is the best seat choice.

If the blonde sits, I’ll have to adjust to a slightly smaller personal space. I’m unhappy at the prospect. The blonde stands confused and indecisive for a minute. She leaves never having sat down. Good. The steam room is no place for the meek. 

The man next to me, about 28, asks me if I’ve just got done taking the yoga class. I say that I just got done teaching the yoga class. He says that must be why I look familiar and that the class was great and “kicked his ass.” 

He’s breaking the no talking rule, but it’s okay because he’s pretty handsome and nice and he’s complimenting me. It’s okay to talk if it’s to compliment me. We chat about yoga. I break the no talking rule, but it’s down to us and the talking Mexicans and it’s really happy. The Mexican woman and I smile at each other. I tell the boy how to better get his toes around his calf in garudasana. 

I get up to refill my water bottle. While I’m standing, another man enters and sits in my seat. I move across the room which I think is funny because I know the 28-year-old wants to keep talking to me and now he can’t. He leaves. I sit quietly for several more minutes.

I leave. He is still outside. We shake hands. He tells me his name is Ben and that he’ll maybe be at my class next week. 

Time: 16 minutes

June 27: Steam Room

It’s after 9 pm at night and I’m the only one in the steam room. Good.

One man enters followed by two more men and a woman. Everyone is Mexican.

Everyone follows all of the unspoken steam room rules. I am pleased. The only interaction is with the woman. When the furnace/steam comes back on, it makes a sound like a gunshot. The woman jumps and we make eye contact and laugh. The only movement is light calisthenics from, surprisingly, everyone in the room. This is acceptable, non obtrusive, movement.

Everyone leaves except the first man who came in after me. “Oh, it’s game on now, random other guy in steam room!” I decide it’s a survivor-esque outlast challenge where whoever leaves first loses. I, of course, win out. 

Time: 23 minutes. 

June 25: Sauna

A smaller room than I’m used to. Three men inside. One man, about 55, sits on the floor, instead of the seats, with his feet on the ground and knees by his face. He is extremely sweaty. 

Everyone ignores me and I ignore everyone. 

There is no conversation other than an acceptable, brief, goodbye chat where I learn the man on the floor goes to the gym at 5am most days. Leaves to do some things, then returns. This is his routine. Maybe he is retired or someone who works on the computer and can make his own hours.  

Another man, in his 50s, enters and  places two paper towels down on the seat next to me before sitting down. He is acceptably far away from me, but still a bit too close. 

Time: 11 minutes. 

What it's about

I’m a yoga instructor. I’m at the gym a lot. They pay me to be there. It’s awesome. I get free towels!

After yoga, I sit in the gym’s Coed steam room or sauna. It’s like Bikram yoga except no one’s yelling at me, I can drink water whenever I want, and no one claps for me. Usually. 

The Unspoken Sauna Rules

(that piss me off when broken):

1) Don’t hit on anyone in the Sauna

2) Don’t wait outside of the Sauna to hit on anyone

3) No singing. 

4) No talking. 

5) No staring.

6) No excessive, disruptive movements

7) Sit as far apart as the space allows 

8) No exfoliating or extreme shedding 

This tumblr recounts my day-to-day sauna experiences. Some days will be uneventful with everyone following these unspoken rules, and some days will be more interesting.