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We pulled into a wooded lot and parked next to a bulletin board that said 'We Are a Clothing Optional Resort.' The springs steamed behind wet steps. Kiosk notices alerted us to internecine management conflicts, meditation workshops, the healing power of lithium. Women walked by with breasts that left you feeling conflicted. Testicles dangled. I had never even been to a hot spring with bathing suits. The grower went to the bathroom while I purchased day passes with my SAT earnings.
'It's explained in the guidebook, but these are holy waters,' said the guy at the front desk. He had a half-shaved head and a t-shirt that said 'Question Male Privilege.' He handed me a guidebook as thick as a course packet. 'So we prefer you not speak, eat, or engage in sexual congress. No passion in the pools.
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