George Washington Bathed Here

I'm a big fan of bathing; I try to do it at least twice a week. But in this day and age, with our high-falutin "running water" and "indoor plumbing," we forget that bathing was once an event.

But they don't forget at Berkeley Springs! That fine West Virginia town (est. 1776) was the Vegas of the late 18th century, only with fewer hookers and less organized gambling. It's billed as America's first resort town. Water comes out of the ground at a delightful 74, so they slapped some spas on the main drag and let people revel in the sumptous, vaguely sinful experience of not smelling like sweat and horses for a few hours. It was an experience enjoyed by no lesser a man than GEORGE WASHINGTON.

We've all heard the stories about the Father of our Country being impervious to dirt and stains, but they might have been farfetched: George definitely took a soak. They even have his favorite bath marked!

The word you're looking for is "underwhelming." Your eyes do not lie; it is a small ditch, just a few feet deep, with a sign attached. There's no way George fit in that thing on horseback, and he wasn't doing snuff off any busty wench's bosom while the jets worked his lumbar region. They don't even have jets. There are minnows swimming along in February (courtesy of the warm water), but there's nothing to truly capture the majesty of an 8'3", mostly naked and glistening George washington emerging from the waters, trident in hand. You know, history.

George first came to the region as a young surveyor, and he returned several times in part for the alleged healthful benefits of a hot soak. He might have been onto something. Me and three intrepid friends tried out the Roman Baths on Saturday: you enter the bathhouse, pay the teens at the desk, and they fill up a 6 1/2 foot Victorian-style bathtub (the water is heated an extra 28 degrees to 102). Then you "let the magic happen" for about half an hour. I was skeptical at first, but in only 30 minutes my sore knee, dry skin, heart disease, social anxiety disorder and financial illiteracy were totally, completely gone. It's science! From the Berkeley Springs web site, here's the mineral content of the water and my general understanding of what each mineral does.

Sodium Chloride -- skin bleaching
Silica -- takes the gout down a shade
Strontium Carbonate -- 52-inch vertical leap
Calcium Sulphate -- lustrous coat, cold nose
Sodium Sulphate -- improves ability to detect sarcasm
Sodium Nitrate -- lowers romantic standards to more realistic levels
Potassium Sulphate -- gives an incresased appreciation of jazz music
Ferrous Carbonate -- strengthens credit scores
Magnesium Carbonate -- draws out all feelings of guilt about not calling your parents
Alumina -- X-ray vision
Ammonium Chloride -- softens
Albuminoid Nitrogen -- toughens
Organic Matter -- allows you to absorb the knowledge and power of those who bathed before you

That stuff works wonders, I tells ya. We had some photo documentation of the whole magical event. That's because we, as beautiful people, were singled out by a reporter and photographer of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review:

They cropped the case of Cristal out of this shot, because it's a family publication. Oddly enough, my bathing was NOT the newsworthy event of the day. The reporters were just fleshing out their story about the Berkeley Springs International Water Tasting, where the elite meet for discreet water treats. It's an annual showdown to determine the best-tasting water in the known universe, and it involves a bunch of judges sitting at a table, drinking water for a few hours. You're thinking: no WAY you got into this event, Chris. It's too high-profile and exciting, even for a high-roller like you. Guess again, chump. We totally rocked the municipal water tasting event. What's more, we even TASTED WATER! They had samples of the aqua fina from a wide number of place, and you could just go right up and ask for it! They were giving away water LIKE IT WAS WATER!

I don't have a refined palate, so I can't tell you what makes for good-tasting water. But I can tell you that everyone on Long Island, New York, would be perfectly justified doing their laundry with Dasani. That water was disgusting, and it almost made me and my friends gag. There's no way it could have made it to the finals without the help of mafia bribes. You want to think that the world of competitive municipal water tasting is pure, so the very presence of that foul swill upset mea great deal. Still, my opinions don't count on a tasting contest (Hamilton, Ohio was the winner). They DO count on the people's choice award for bottle design:

I was particularly drawn to the bottle for Bling H2O, which sells at $50 a pop. But then again, I am the kind of guy who wants people to know that I can pay $50 for water. The only thing missing from their stunning packaging is some kind of siren on the cap, to draw the attention of anyone in the room who did not realize I was paying $50 for water. And who won the bottle design contest? Bling H2O. The rich get richer. As a Republican, that's what I'm all about.

I have but two regrets for the day. First, that we could not stay to see the awards ceremony (no one had packed formalwear). I really, really want to know what a municipal water award acceptance speech is like. I hope someone thanked Jesus and their agent. Second, that while browsing a local antique shop, I did not pull the trigger on either the "Archie Bunker's grandson" doll with its anatomically correct peeing action, or this fine-looking book:

Tags: presidents, travel, water

Feet of Clay

Barack Obama, the most powerful man in the world, could not demand than an army of statues be built for his tomb. Even if he thought it was a fun way to spend his book royalties and went through private contractors, his career would be over. So if he wants to be remembered, he has to try to "help people" or "solve problems."

In that sense, the terra cotta warriors at the National Geographic Museum are really just another reminder that the world is no fun anymore. I'm sure living under the thumb of a homicidal maniac would have a few drawbacks, but if you were a Chinese peasant 2,200 years ago, at least you knew that your boss had panache. And panache is like the MSG of life: sure, it kills you, but it makes everything taste better.

If you're not familiar with the legend, China's first emperor from the very start of his reign planned out an entire necropolis (meaning a city for the dead, like in Egypt, or Michigan). The thinking was that he would continue to reign in the afterlife -- why let a supreme being have all the fun? -- but you can't just show up in the afterlife and start bossing people around. The dead are very set in their ways. So, to facilitate this glorious paradigm shift in post-mortal macropolitics, the emperor had 1,000 of his closest living friends whip up a few thousand running buddies made from baked earth. A lot of these were fully armed soldiers, but there were also some pencil-pushers in there, because when your spirt army isn't happy with a sudden spike in payroll taxes you need a fall guy.

(I'm not exactly clear on how lifeless clay statues make the jump to fully actualized spirit army, but it's probably something along the lines of "Pinnochio." Also, I did not see any terra cotta hookers, or females of any kind, so those clay soldiers would have been pissed. Just putting it out there.)

The display at Nat Geo is the first time any of the warriors have left China (had the British discovered them, it would be a different story, but the Chinese stumbled on them around 1976). The select statues on display are kind of neat! They have a variety of jobs (accountant, horseman, lovable sidekick) and a variety of facial hair (soul patches? oh yeah!). They're all roughly life-sized, and it appears that some of them do have a kung-fu grip of some kind. The downside: there's not enough of them. Though well made, they aren't exactly high art; the whole "wow" factor is that there are THOUSANDS of the statues. You get to see about 10, plus some fine samples of ancient Chinese roofing tile. The roofing tile isn't pulling its share of the "wow."

But I still welcome this display as an excellent reminder that, regardless of race or culture, crazy people are awesome. As soon as I find a dedicated revenue stream, I am commissioning a 300-seat necro-comedy club with a full audience and wait staff. If you're good with clay and you have a human-sized kiln, give me a call!

Movie Review: North Face

This is a pleasing addition to the "mountain climbing plus Nazis" genre, and while I do not think "North Face" will ever air regularly around Christmas, I'm putting it on equal footing with "The Sound of Music."

It's 1936, and mountaineers everywhere are all atwitter over the Eiger (in Switzerland). People had climbed the mountain before, but they had used up all the pansy sissy foo-foo routes. The important thing here was to scale the north face, which is largely vertical, has tons of avalanches and rock slides and gets slammed by horrific and unpredictable weather. In other words, the MAN ROUTE. So these German guys, Toni and Andi (apparently, you can still be a man even if your name ends with an "i"), decide to knuckle up and give it a try. They go camp at the foot of the mountain with all the other climbing teams, then when the weather breaks at 2:30 in the morning, they go for it. Meanwhile, the press and rich people in tuxedos watch through telescopes at this chalet at the base of the mountain.

The point isn't so much the acting, which is a little bland. It's more that they filmed a lot of this on location and it looks FREAKING AWESOME. Whatever portion of it was faked I have no clue, because when those guys are freezing to death on the side of the mountain, it looks pretty damn real.

Seeing all that suffering, and the skin turning black from the freezing to death and whatnot, you wonder what motivates people to do these things. In 1936 there were no REI stores for these dudes to stock up; ropes were heavier, pitons were weaker, and nobody had Underarmor. Gatorade was but a twinkle in a climber's eye. Anyone taking this trip has to know they might not return, so how do you even start out? In the movie, they do paint up the "national pride" angle -- Hitler apparently had high hopes that some Aryan supermen would be the first guys to the top. But why would you risk death to get somewhere (the summit) that can be reached safely? Especially knowing that there is no added benefit to humanity for you having made the trip, unless you count scoring with chalet skanks as an added benefit to humanity.

There's definitely something in the human spirit that compels us to try. Not MY spirit, specifically, but some humans' spirt. I'm more into eating sandwiches.

Tags: trivia, movies

Who Should I Have a Beer With?

A new McSweeney's column is up!

The famous poll question asks which candidate you'd rather have a beer with. So I'm taking it a step further, to caluculate which president would be the best drinking buddy. There are lots of ways to argue this one, as some people have different goals in mind for a drinking buddy -- sympathetic ear, wingman, someone to hold your hair as you vomit -- but I gotta say I like my choice. You can see who I singled out right here.

If you disagree, let me know! I always like the feedback.

Tags: presidents