![]() He rinsed off aluminum foil and reused it. Basic meals he ate over and over: mostly a lentil mix he called kitchari. “You know what the ultimate life hack is?” Joris said. The concept of “life hacks” disturbed Joris. People tried to optimize too many things. He was a vegan, too, though less concerned than Sam about monitoring protein intake, and repulsed by the vegan snack foods that Sam brought home, the dairy-free ice cream that tasted waxy and took forever to melt.Įverything was so complicated nowadays, Joris said-he meant the way Sam exercised, or his plant-based muscle milks. ![]() No more meat, no more eggs, no more dairy. How could anyone have kept eating meat after seeing that video? The pig in so much fear, literally stumbling in fright, his pig legs collapsing-his eyes had looked so human. Joris had shown Sam a video on his phone one night, a pig in a slaughterhouse. But then the woman ordered the chicken tacos, so it wasn’t a vegan thing. Sam circulated with complimentary smoothie shots.įewer and fewer people consumed dairy these days, or so it seemed. The idea of being on vacation sent people into a frenzy, their clothes communicating the message that they were starring in a movie called “ PLEASURE.” Some guests looked a little costumey-pink sunglasses and floor-length dresses and shimmery swimsuits with metal chains for straps. “Thanks, hon,” the wife said, her smile real enough.īy noon, the loungers were half full. He got them settled, brought them extra towels. “Babymoon”-a word Sam had never heard until he started working here. Perhaps he was familiar with Wim Hof, one of his countrymen. The sight seemed to soothe people-someone was worrying, so they didn’t have to.Ī couple arrived at the pool, the man’s face maybe Nordic-a little angular and his hair a little wisped. How hygienic could the pool be? Ever since they’d reopened, Alejandro came twice a day to test the water, kneeling by the hot tub in his chinos, doing his chemical business. Their five kids had spent yesterday bawling around the pool, leaping in with starfish arms and legs, coughing full force into the water without covering their mouths. Then a pleasant walk, carrying a plastic-wrapped fruit bowl to the group who’d rented out 20 South. A comforting thought.Ī trip to restock the mini-fridges in the cabanas with sparkling water. What are you capable of?, Wim Hof asked, and the answer was: much more than you knew. The three pillars of the Wim Hof method: Breathing, Cold Therapy, and-most important-Commitment. He balled up the used rags and tossed them overhand into the garbage bin: they dropped in with a pleasing noise. On to the next task: Sam set out the cushions, wiped down the slats of the cabanas. He went into the back room to mark this off on the clipboard. Placed the freshly sanitized Ping-Pong paddles on the table at an inviting angle. Sam finished setting out the chess pieces. All these ripply ass cheeks and freckled, sun-damaged chests that went scalloped with age. If you thought too long about any of it, you could get a little queasy. The rosy mottled shoulders of the pale Europeans, the pathological tans of the professional sunbathers. The roasting men whose teeth looked suddenly white against their scarlet skin. And, if it was true, Sam had watched so many slow-motion suicides at this job. Sam had not fact-checked this, but it sounded right. “A sunburn is your skin cells committing suicide so they don’t turn cancerous.” “You know what a sunburn is?” Joris said. Joris had not heeded this, in his sun-worshipping youth, his decades spent as a campground manager all over the Southwest. ![]() More life advice from Joris: avoid a sunburn at all costs. But he’d been right: Sam’s white Levi’s came out blinding. ![]() Did it surprise Sam, his fifty-year-old roommate suddenly knowledgeable about household matters? Joris didn’t have a bed frame. You could just bleach it-Joris showed him. It was actually easier than he’d imagined, having an all-white uniform. Sam wore white pants and white sneakers and a white sweatshirt that had the recipe for the hotel’s signature cocktail on the back, punctuated by graphic lemons and limes. ![]()
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