There is a Way to Make this Weirder... And You Did It.

This year, for my birthday, I went to a cool old hotel with a hot spring and a vapor cave nearby. Now, you probably know what a hot spring is, and if you don't, dear God, you're missing out, but what is a vapor cave?

I didn't know, but it seemed like a good time to find out.

And since I am someone who does very little research on stuff, I figured out how to get there, how to get in, how much it cost, the hours, and I called it good. And when we showed up, on the year's biggest snow storm, it felt like just the right thing to do.

We walked into the little lobby which was full of crystals (some for sale and some not for sale, but the not for sale ones were strategically placed for their healing energies), cucumber water, very expensive snacks, and some curated jewelry. The check-in women wore matching T-shirts and black tights, and once we signed our lives away, one of them led us down a very narrow hallway.

At the end of the hallway sat a doorway which lead to a descending staircase. She stopped and gave the opening a Vanna White gesture.

"We recommend sitting in the caves for no more than fifteen minutes and then coming to the solarium to cool off. Don't take towels down there, and your silver will tarnish," she told us. "Also, keep your voices to a low whisper, as people come here to be mindful and meditate. The caverns at the back are hotter, and the humidity in the caverns is 100%."

Once we were in our bathing suits, we entered the narrow cavern aperture and found ourselves on the extremely out of code staircase, which lead down, down, down.

My first thought upon starting into the belly of the cave was that it was significantly warmer just two steps down the staircase than it was at the top. And the humidity was so thick, even only three feet below ground level, it was crushing.

A few more steps down, and I thought, what if someone has a medical down here? How on Earth do you get a gurney down here? The steps had the bonus effect of being sort of slopey, and extremely short, so it was easy to bump your foot off of them by accident.

Once I hit the bottom of the stairs, I felt like I couldn't breath. My husband, of course, was totally fine. He pushed through the little plastic curtain and we found ourselves in a dark twisty cavern which had random benches scattered throughout its hallways, and another GIANT crystal lit up in an alcove. Finally, we made it to the far back.

We sat in a room, not talking, and I considered just getting up and making it back up the stairs as even though we were in a larger room, the air was so heavy and hot my claustrophobia was flaring.

But after a while I relaxed and mentioned to my husband that getting a cardiac patient out of the bowels of this place would be highly annoying. He proceeded to tell me about the use of stair chairs in cave rescues (not a new topic in our discussions) and then he segued into why green mold-like stuff was growing right where the few lights shined (something I'm sure he's told me, but less times than the stair chair topic.) My husband knows a lot about caves, and if you really want to get him really on a roll, ask him about the dangers of ice in caves. Block out some time though, and it's actually a really creepy subject.

Anyway, after a while I realized I was getting dizzy, so it was probably time to go chill in the solarium with the other crystals and drink some cucumber water.

We made our way up the stairs. It's important to know, I was in a two piece bathing suit, and while it was fairly sporty, it was still a bikini. We reached the top of the steps and entered the small hallway, and one of the front desk women was giving another introductory tour to some new cavern goers.

Except this was a group of Mennonite men and teenaged boys, each complete with the most literal interpretation of a bowl cut, an iconic hat, and a beard for the four oldest. I stepped from the caverns and almost walked into them. All of them shifted their focus to me.

And please remember, this hallway is abnormally narrow, which initially seemed like a code violation, until I got on those death stairs, and then I thought, that hallway is totally fine. Then I stepped out of the stairs to find six highly religious men blocking me from the solarium, and the hallway width seemed like the most pressing structural problem in the place.

There I was, standing there with my highly sinful, female body clad only in a swimsuit, and they were looking at me like at any minute the blizzard outside was going deploy a God-sent lightning bolt with my name on it because how dare I exist with totally normal female body parts in a place where they could see them.

It was immediately awkward and annoying, and while they were glaring daggers at me, I became incandescent with rage. They were the ones who opted into a coed group swim suit experience. If they were concerned about the existence of women in their view shed, they should have found a different vapor cave.

Eventually the bored woman giving the tour finished it up, and they moved out of the way and I headed to the solarium where I drank infused water and touched some crystals and worked to re-capture that zen this place was so clearly pushing.

At one point one of the Mennonite guys, the older one, who was clearly in charge, had to grab a towel by me, and he made a joke about misplacing it. I joked back, and while his smile was overly bright, I considered that maybe they had all just been shocked to see me. Last I checked, it wasn't in vogue for women to wander around in swimsuits in their town, and being confronted by something so contrary to your fundamental world view is bound to cause some facial insubordination. Maybe they were fine and actively working to open up their world view. I could get behind that.

I cooled off, went back into the vapor caves, got overheated, and came up out of the caves. At some point, I misplaced my husband, and near the top of the steps, I paused, considering where he might be.

Again, this was a narrow little passage, and with me standing there, I was blocking it, but no one was around. Or so I thought. Suddenly, someone made the loudest throat-clearing hiss I have ever heard. I realized someone had walked up behind me and was inches from me. They let out this ungodly noise, and I actually levitated.

I stepped to the side to see the youngest Mennonite kid. He stepped past me, turning so I could see his eyes. Yes, he glared at me with what I can only describe as utter disgust, but he also ogled me. He couldn't deign to politely ask me to move, but he was willing make whatever that offensive noise was and then give me this highly hateful, obviously lustful look, before stalking off.

Stunned, I watched him get a few paces away before I called "OKAY". He shuddered when I said that, and after years of owning cats, I can spot the telltale ear swivel or flinch that lets you know, oh they heard you, they're just going to pretend like they didn't. And this fifteen-year-old kid had a bigger tell than my not very covert cat.

For a second, I considered yelling something snitty at him, but I remembered I was a adult, and even though he clearly hated me for existing, at least one of us could act with decorum.

So instead I just watched him stomp down the hallway.

I've thought a lot about this. He was a kid. A male kid. They make mistakes and are rude at that age. The group spoke both German and English (very loudly, the whispering part wasn't something they were into), and he's from a totally different culture than me. Could he have just been unsure how to use words to get me to move? Sure. But then why the prolonged eye contact laced with hate and desire? Should I chalk that up to him just being a boy in puberty in a culture that probably doesn't have a robust sex ed curriculum?

I'm sure that's part of it. But also, it doesn't excuse it. Just because the world doesn't conform 100% to your desires does not mean the world is wrong. And I think that is what is so frustrating to me. The more people who have an all or nothing view point, the more divided we get. If we treat people wrong for existing, where do we even go from there? How do we get to a a better place?

Part of me wonders if that experience was something he thinks critically about, or if he simply uses me as an example of why the wider world is evil. There is a chance, that him having had that weird interaction with me, makes him think on a bigger scale. I won't ever know it, but how many interactions do people have like that all the time? Throw away moments for you could define someone's else's outlook for years. Or maybe I'm the reason he will always hate women. And before someone says, you don't know he hates you. I am a woman who is an adult, and I know what it looks like when someone looks at me like I'm anathema. Don't make me start womansplaining what it's like to be a woman.

But I can't control what he will or will not think. I can control what I think though. And while I left that place thinking packs of highly religious men are problematic at best and violent at worst, the only way I can practice what I preach is to not dig that divide deeper.

So, instead, I'll think about that older guy. The guy who talked to me even though he was grinning like a mad man and was clearly nervous. He crossed that divide as best he could, and so, I can try too. Maybe he was that kid forty years ago, and look at him now. Talking to a lady in a bikini like she doesn't deserve to self-combust.

I guess, some days that's all we can do.