hot springs national park

 Mike had Good Friday off for some reason (why?) so we took advantage of the long weekend to make a quick trip to Hot Springs National Park. In the process, we visited states number 45 and 46 on my list and 47 and 48 (I think) on Mike's list. We're so close! 

We headed out Thursday after work and got to the airport with plenty of time to spare. Way more time than we needed, as it turns out, because our flight was delayed by more than an hour. We staggered into Memphis a little after 1 a.m., with me wearing a walking boot to protect my foot. After a LOOOOONNNG walk to the rental car, we discovered that we had been assigned a truck, which was a little exciting for Mike because he had wondered what this truck (Toyota Tacoma, fancy edition) was like to drive. Don't worry, he got plenty of time to evaluate it. 

After getting a few hours of sleep, we got up bright and early Friday morning and made the three-hour drive to Hot Springs. Our first stop was the Superior Bathhouse Brewery, the only one of its kind in a national park -- they brew their beers and root beer from water from the hot springs. The plan was to get there at 11 when the brewery opened, but since we were so late getting into Memphis, we opted to sleep a little later, and we got there around noon instead. 

Friends, we must have been under a lucky star that day because we accidentally timed everything exactly right. We opted to sit outside in the beer garden, so there was no wait. The trade-off to that is that they only have a limited menu out there, but I got an amazing mac n cheese n bacon smashburger, and Mike got a banh mi smashburger. The weather was perfect, so we were quite happy to not be stuck inside.

And this is where our tale takes a turn because in addition to burgers, we decided to get the beer bath -- sample sizes of all 18 beers they make. This was fine for Mike, who is used to drinking beer on the daily. But that's not really the case for me. I might have a drink once a year? Some years not at all! But I was already drunk with the freedom of not being stuck in the house, so I was all in on this beer tasting experience. We tried every single one! Most of them were pretty good, but there were a few that we could barely get down. Mike took tasting notes, which started out nice and concise, but got increasingly nonsensical, especially as I started to get tipsy and steal his phone to include random observations about the music (1980s classics, highly approve), the food, the day, and anything else that struck my fancy.

Having thusly fortified ourselves, we took our tipsy selves to our next stop: the bike rental place. I had reserved rental bikes for a couple hours thinking that was a good way to explore the park without stressing my foot too much. I was right, and I now want to explore every single park by bike until the end of days.

A word about this park: If you're looking for nature, you won't find much of it here. In fact, we rode around from spring to spring ... and all we found were drinking fountains. Almost all of the springs are capped off to feed the bath houses -- not to mention the thirsty masses who come to fill up their giant jugs with the healing waters. Mike was inadvertently befriended by one such fella, who was busy filling up his 14 five-gallon jugs with spring water and was happy to tell Mike all about it in great detail. Freaky people out here, I tell you.

Anyway, we eventually made our way to one of the two (only two!) actual hot springs in the park, and it was ... nice. It didn't smell like sulfur, and it was tucked away in this little park area in the middle of Bathhouse Row. 

So that was our Friday. We had pizza for dinner, and it was pretty tasty, but I'm not the pizza expert in this family, so I defer to Mike to tell you all the ways it wasn't "real" Chicago-style pie.

Saturday morning I woke Mike up bright and early to drop me off at Buckstaff Bathhouse, because I figured I should get the entire "healing waters" experience, just like they did it in 1912 when this place opened. And you know what? I was not prepared.

I have only recently gotten my first professional massages, and those have been in a medical context rather than a leisure context. So I really had no idea what to expect from this place. I'm glad I got there early, around 7:30 a.m., because by the time they officially opened at 8, the line stretched out the door and all the way down and onto the sidewalk. There was only one group in line before me, though: four ladies from Texas there for an annual pilgrimage. They were awfully nice and let me ask them a million questions and imprint on them like a giant duckling to get through the registration process.

On their advice, I got the deluxe bathing package, then hopped on an old-timey elevator complete with attendant, and up we went to the ladies' floor (yes, separate floors by gender). I undressed and put all my clothes in a locker, and put the key on a rope around my neck for the duration. Then an attendant wrapped me in a sheet, and I was off to the first stop: the bath. It was a 20-minute soak in hot spring water, plus a cup of hot spring water to sip like you would coffee or tea. After that, the attendant led me to lay down on a table, cocooned in towels soaked in the hot spring water, and with ice chips and cold spring water to keep me from completely overheating.

And that's when it got real weird.

The next stop was the steam cabinet, this utterly bizarre device in a marble stall. The idea is to sit inside the cabinet with only your head sticking out, while your body gets a steam treatment. Except it turns out that I'm too tall (especially by 1912 standards!) for a ladyperson, so they couldn't close the top gates without hitting my shoulders. So instead they just closed the stall door and steamed me, head and all. 

And after THAT came the sitz bath. Now listen, I would very much like to know who dreamed this treatment up. WHAT ancient person was like "I would like to fold myself basically in half and sit in a giant toilet and soak only my nethers in boiling water and see what happens." Seriously, what was the thinking there?? 

But anyway, I dutifully soaked my nethers, and then it was off to the full-body massage, which was really nice. Then I went back and got dressed again before the final stop, a paraffin hand treatment. Again, I wonder who thinks these things up. Was that person just sitting around one day and dreaming up scenarios? And if so, what led them to think of filling a crock pot with hot wax, then dipping your hands in there five times like you're making a candle in ye olden days but with your hands as the wick, then wrapping the whole mess up in some oven mitts until it hardens enough that you can peel it off like a snake shedding its skin? Actually, this one kind of makes sense. I've made dipped candles at Connor Prairie before, and I can see how maybe one time some hapless pioneer maybe accidentally dipped her hand in the hot wax, then decided it would be less messy to just wait until it dried to peel it off, and then discovered that wow her hand was a lot softer and felt pretty nice after that. So I'll give the paraffin my seal of approval, but that sitz bath is still on my ... sitz list, if you will.

And that, friends, marked the end of both my bathhouse experience and our trip to Hot Springs. Mike picked me up, and we went back to the hotel and packed up, then headed back toward Memphis. We went into Mississippi for a late lunch of delicious BBQ, then checked into our hotel for our final night. By this time, we were kind of wiped out, so we got some snacks from the hotel front desk, and that's what we had for dinner. Whee!

Sunday morning our flight home was uneventful, and the day was clear and bright, so I got a spectacular view of the city when we landed. AND we made it back in time to go to my sister's house for Easter dinner. All in all, a very good weekend!