Adventures in Cleanliness Revisited


I was in Babylon, sitting in my van in front of a thrift store, talking to the Jewelry Lady. I was telling her about my shower (mis)adventures and complaining about how hot it was in the valley. I said I needed to find a park so I could sit in the shade of a tree while I talked on the phone.

The Jewelry Lady asked if the town had a pool. I said I didn’t know, but I’d check into it. Pools have locker rooms and locker rooms have showers. Right?

When I got on the internet, I searched for information about the town pool. Yes, there was one. Yes, it was open this very evening. Admission price for adults: $2.

I called the pool to check on the shower situation. Yes, the woman on the phone told me, there were locker rooms, although there were no lockers in the locker rooms. And yes, there were showers in the locker rooms.

I was so excited. The $2 admission fee was approximately 1/6 of what I’d pay for a shower at the Love’s and I wouldn’t have to drive the 40 mile round trip out of my way. With those kind of savings, I could afford to take another shower the next afternoon when the pool opened again.

I packed a tote bag (soap, shampoo, washcloth, towel, razor, clean underwear, deodorant, clean shirt and skirt, and bathing suit, in the event I decided to get into the pool) and put on my purple plastic shower shoes.

I arrived at the pool about half an hour after it opened. The place was packed. There were little kids, teenagers, and adults filling the water. There were no poolside chairs, but people (mostly adults) were sitting around the pool, up against the fence surrounding it. I smelled the chemical tang of chlorine and heard the splashes, squeals, and laughter that seem to accompany all public pools.

I also noticed that I was quite possibly the only person of non-Latino/a heritage in the place. Not that it mattered to me one way or another, but I was the only only white girl I saw.

I stood in line, paid my $2, signed the waiver.

I walked through the entrance marked both “girls” and “women,” entered the locker room. Straight ahead were three or four toilet stalls. In the middle of the room were benches. To my left, there they were, the showers.

There were four shower heads mounted on the back wall, no walls of any sort between them. No curtains. No walls. No stalls.

As I stood there awkwardly, contemplating my situation, people (mostly little girls) were in and out of the locker room. Some of them decided to follow the order on the sign directing folks to shower before swimming. They turned on the water and were immediately squealing about how cold the water was. Of course. Showers meant to provide a rinse before one jumped into the pool on a summer day were not going to have hot water.

Maybe I could take a cold shower behind a curtain or door. Maybe I could take a hot shower out in the open with my excruciatingly white ass on display. But a cold shower out in front of God and everyone? Forget it.

I was soon on the road to the Love’s.

To read more about how I stay clean while living in my van, go here:, here:, and here:

About Blaize Sun

My name is Blaize Sun. Maybe that's the name my family gave me; maybe it's not. In any case, that's the name I'm using here and now. I've been a rubber tramp for nearly a decade.I like to see places I've never seen before, and I like to visit the places I love again and again. For most of my years on the road, my primary residence was my van. For almost half of the time I was a van dweller, I was going it alone. Now I have a little travel trailer parked in a small RV park in a small desert town. I also have a minivan to travel in. When it gets too hot for me in my desert, I get in my minivan and move up in elevation to find cooler temperatures or I house sit in town in a place with air conditioning I was a work camper in a remote National Forest recreation area on a mountain for four seasons. I was a camp host and parking lot attendant for two seasons and wrote a book about my experiences called Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. During the last two seasons as a work camper on that mountain, I was a clerk in a campground store. I'm also a house and pet sitter, and I pick up odd jobs when I can. I'm primarily a writer, but I also create beautiful little collages; hand make hemp jewelry and warm, colorful winter hats; and use my creative and artistic skills to decorate my life and brighten the lives of others. My goal (for my writing and my life) is to be real. I don't like fake, and I don't want to share fake. I want to share my authentic thoughts and feelings. I want to give others space and permission to share their authentic selves. Sometimes I think the best way to support others is to leave them alone and allow them to be. I am more than just a rubber tramp artist. I'm fat. I'm funny. I'm flawed. I try to be kind. I'm often grouchy. I am awed by the stars in the dark desert night. I hope my writing moves people. If my writing makes someone laugh or cry or feel angry or happy or troubled or comforted, I have done my job. If my writing makes someone think and question and try a little harder, I've done my job. If my writing opens a door for someone, changes a life, I have done my job well. I hope you enjoy my blog posts, my word and pictures, the work I've done to express myself in a way others will understand. I hope you appreciate the time and energy I put into each post. I hope you will click the like button each time you like what you have read. I hope you will share posts with the people in your life. I hope you'll leave a comment and share your authentic self with me and this blog's other readers. Thank you for reading.  A writer without readers is very sad indeed.

3 Responses »

  1. Ok, here’s how you do it. Go to pool during hottest time of day. Get a large, very old/thin towel (thrift store). Wrap sarong style on naked self. Turn on cold shower and slowly get all wet while wearing towel ie like getting into cold pool to swim. Wash & rinse head/shoulders/pits fast. Next reach under sarong and wash & rinse “tender parts”. Now do legs and feet. Bag the shaving! Move fast! Lv to all, M

    • Maggie, it seems you have done this before!

      Thanks for the tips! I hope to never have to use them, but if I can get to a cold water swimming pool shower and not a hot water truck stop shower, I know what to do.

  2. Pingback: Adventures in Cleanliness | Rubber Tramp Artist

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