Go Take a Bath

In the 1800’s, cast iron pipes were invented.  Then in 1883, a loving God gave John Michael Kohler the foresight to invent the bathtub. Thank you, Mr. Kohler, for making the world a more enjoyable place. 

I love taking baths. I love everything about them. In just minutes, one can turn a rectangular-shaped object filled with water and heated to a nice toasty 95 to 105 degrees into Shangri-La. A good hot bath can turn the rattiest tenement apartment into a luxurious spa.  I know; I lived in one. 

There are many photos of me as a child sitting, smiling happily and splashing in an Alcove porcelain tub with my mother kneeling beside the outer wall. When my wife and I were newly married, my wife was deeply concerned that my mother was still giving me baths and getting me into my pajamas. This was way before we had children. I remember explaining to my wife that until we have children of our own, we should not judge a mother’s love.  

I like water. I like to drink it, gargle it, and walk in the rain getting drenched by it.  But first and foremost, I love sitting in it. Give me a wood backscratcher and a new bar of Olive Oil Oatmeal Soap and hello, happiness.  A bath to me is not a luxury but rather a necessity.  I can’t do without it. A bath can be so pleasurable, it’s hard for me to allow myself that much pleasure.   

Give me a wood backscratcher and a new bar of Olive Oil Oatmeal Soap and hello, happiness.  A bath to me is not a luxury but rather a necessity.  I can’t do without it.  

To prepare a proper bath, one must be part scientist. I add three ingredients. First, two caps of bubble bath are poured directly under the water spigot. Then a healthy squirt of aloe vera gel.  And of course, a handful of MgSO4 that is commonly known as Epson salts. Try the Lavender or Eucalyptus. I’m drooling just thinking about it. 

People have asked me if I equally enjoy dipping in the ocean or a lake. The answer is no. In the ocean, I’m aware that at any moment a shark might scoot by and saw me in half.  And in a lake, it’s the Electrophorus Electricus (better known as an electric eel) that I’m scared might take a bite out of my rump. 

Doctors will tell you a bath is good for depression, sore muscles, lowering blood pressure and relaxation. And of course, if they are not opposed to hopping in with you, it’s an opportunity to get to know your neighbors much better. But that’s for a different sort of newspaper. 

But here now is the difference between the professional and the amateur bathers.  It all comes down to taking a bath outside their bedchamber. There are people for whom the mere mention of taking a bath at a hotel repels them. Many people believe sitting in a hotel tub is akin to eating a piece of cheese found stuffed in a shoe that’s been sitting in a Times Square garbage can.    

Not me. I have been dipping my toes to test the water temperature in and out of hotel tubs for over 40 years and in over 28 countries that might have some of the worst hotels known to man.  When making hotel reservations I always phone the front desk and ask for a tub. Many newer hotels have very few, if any, tubs at all.  And some even charge extra for a tub.  

My opinion is that if you can sit on a toilet seat at Dodger stadium, you can take a bath anywhere in the world.  People react to hotel bathtubs as if you asked them to take a dip into the Yamuna River in India. The Yamuna receives 3.5 billion liters of sewage a day. 

As the rabbis tell us, God wants us to have pleasure. We were not born to just mope and grumble and quickly shower. We are here to enjoy ourselves and help others. So, grab a good book, your iPhone, Bluetooth speaker, a Coala Hola bath pillow and a new bar of scented soap. Then maybe phone a neighbor if that’s the way you roll.  Fill her up, get in, lie back and take a trip to heaven.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and host of the ‘You Don’t Know Schiff’ podcast.