From: wrat@unisql.UUCP (wharfie)
Newsgroups: rec.music.gdead
Subject: hot tubs in the desert
Date: 8 Jan 93 20:14:23 GMT
Organization: UniSQL, Inc., Austin, Texas, USA


	Some of you have already seen a version of this, but I thought
the net in general might enjoy it.  As usual, I reserve all copyrights
and the names have been changed to protect the innocent.


	Unlike Saturday night when because we'd gotten lost in the
parking lot we didn't make it back to the hotel until almost 11 on
Sunday we were like the third car out after the show ended.  We had
plenty of time for a relaxed dinner and when we did get back to our
temporary home I decided that I could finally shake loose and
get into the hot tub which had beckoned to me all weekend like a
warm wet ...spring...  in the miserable cold and damp excuse for
a desert that Tempe was this weekend.  I slipped into my
much-despised bathing suit - what a ridiculous invention! Special
clothes to go swimming in! - and grabbed my towel.

	When I got down to the pool, the tub was already pretty full
with people drinking beer and wine and passing joints.  There were
half a dozen children running about and laughing, splashing around in
the pool and chasing each other.  A beautiful young woman was sitting
near the tub and watching her daughter play in the water.  When she
sighed and said that she really wished she could join us in the tub we
told her to jump in, but she replied that she didn't have a suit. When
we answered that she didn't need one she laughed and said that if we
all took our suits off she'd undress and join us.  Well, no sooner
said than done!  We soon had almost everyone in the tub much more
sensibly dressed for the occassion, and our new friend joined us,
albeit a little shyly.

	More and more people kept arriving.  Some slid into the hot
tub and some went to swim in the pool.  A scruffy hippie appeared
toking on a balloon of nitrous, provoking screams of "where did that
come from?" and "where's the tank?".  A couple of women ran off, and
returned with armfuls of multicolored balloons.  Soon everyone in the
pool and the tub had a balloon of laughing gas (all those who wanted
one, that is).  People began climbing up onto the brick building that
housed the pool machinery and jumping off into the too-shallow
swimming pool to make huge splashes.  Newcomers would climb up onto
the roof of this little stone hut to undress and cannonball into the
pool after their impromptu striptease.  After the ballons were emptied of
nitrous we'd blow them up with plain old air and give them to the children
to play with.

	About this time a contingent of Netheads arrived, bearing
flourescent pink loofahs.  With some amused or maybe just
incredulous looks at the festivities they slipped into the tub.
(Most of them stayed dressed despite my short lecture on the evils
of textile bathing.)  The scene was a cacaphony of balloon hisses and
laughter and shouting as we scrubbed each other with the Dayglo
loofahs to the accompaniment of beer bottles being knocked over
and the whale-loud splashings of the daring but too-stoned
cannonballers.  One couple were screwing in the far end of the
pool and the cement patio had been become covered with a crowd of
people in various stages of dress and states of conciousness.
There were so many people in the hot tub that the safety circuits
kicked in and turned off the heater and the bubbles.  The
Netheads mumbled something about packing and all left.

	Right around then a group of people walked through the
gate to the pool area dragging a huge nitrous tank on a blanket
that looked like it had been liberated from someone's hotel room.
They started filling balloons as quickly as they could, and some
people dispensed with the ballon and hit up right from the hose.
Visions of this frigid tank of compressed gas slipping into the
105 degree water of the hot tub and making a large messy boom
filtered into my foggy mind.  Coupled with the realization that
things were probably over the line that even the most tolerant of
Comfort Inn staff members was able to ignore and the increasing
entropy of the erstwhile oasis the idea of dying in some bizarre
accident and being born into my next life floating on a cloud of
chlorinated pool water and nitrous oxide prompted me to get back
into my clothes and split.

	I watched the increasingly crowded and crazy pool scene
from my window for at least half an hour before someone finally
called the police.  One single Sherrif's deputy arrived, and just
made everyone get dressed and leave and take their tank with
them.  At least one person was too stoned to find their clothes
and rode the elevator back to their room in a towel...

								the wharf rat
From: mbesweth@hpldsla.sid.hp.com (Mark Beswetherick)
Date: Tue, 5 Jan 1993 21:40:11 GMT
Subject: Re: 12/16/92 tape grovel
Organization: HP Scientific Instruments Division - Palo Alto, CA