Front Porch Stories: The Terrible Tan

By KATHY BOHANNON, Special to The Coweta Shopper

I like having a bit of a tan, and typically I just get whatever sun decides to dish out over the course of a few months of summer. But one year I decided a spray tan was in order, so off I went with full expectations.

The staff of two or three young women were a combined age of maybe seventeen, but kind and helpful. But regardless of age or experience, I don’t think they were ready for what happened next.

One of them walked me to the back where there was a shower stall-looking thing. She gave me so many instructions: stand like this, move like that, turn, bend… I’m sure there were more, but it sounded easy enough.

“The spray comes out really fast,” she said. I figured I’m sure they have to say stuff like that for insurance purposes. I’m older. I have been in “many a storm” as momma would say. I know life’s ropes. Really fast spray didn’t scare this old girl.

I’ve seen videos of tornadoes, typhoons and other terrifying acts of nature. I’ve watched “Twister” more than once, yet I had no idea how fast “really fast” was.

It’s fast, y’all. It’s really, really fast.

She left the room and I donned the little paper shower cap with nothing else – at all – on my body. I carefully stepped into the shower-looking stall. I thought about all the steps she gave me. Turn this on, stand like this, face the left, stand like that, face the right, raise this arm, raise that arm, close the eyes.

I turned the lever that would produce the perfect tan.

Forget tornadoes. Forget typhoons, twisters and other acts of nature. The force at which that stuff hit me was supernatural. It was beyond comprehension. It was, indeed, the engine of a 747 crammed into the back of that stall.

I was shocked at how fast and hard that spray was. If it had sounded as fast as it was coming out, it would have broken the sound barrier. Windows would have shattered. People would be grabbing their children, running through the streets, screaming for dear life.

I realized once it began that I was in shock and still standing in the same spot. The front of my legs was taking one for the team. They were already orange from layers and layers of spray tan.

I panicked and turned just in time for the sprayer to hit my face. I must have spun around because there was tanning stuff on one shoulder. What I didn’t do was follow procedure. What I did next may still be on the lips of every employee who ever worked there, before or since.

I scrambled out of that stall, front of my legs and one shoulder looking like I’d been in the oven all night. I remember standing with wide eyes, watching the monster storm still flowing, pointing up and down, as if seeking another victim.

I grabbed a towel. It happened to be a very small towel, and didn’t cover near what it should have. In my panic, I ran out of the room.

And there I stood at the reception desk, partially tanned, covered only in front by a small towel.

I’m still thankful to this day that no one else was waiting on the tanning machine from Hades, and I was the only customer running back down the hallway in my birthday suit, scrambling to find my clothes.

I glowed for a few days, and vowed to enjoy the sunshine.

Kathy Bohannon can be reached at [email protected].