I'll worship the real sun god

The summer usually involves plenty of days of swimming and lake trips, leaving me with a bronze tan, the kind you see in statues made of Greek gods. Minus the muscles and fictitious physique, of course.

Unfortunately this summer, Mother Nature has not cooperated and the number of days out in the sun has been limited. This has left me looking pasty with a trip to the beach coming up in a few weeks. That can mean only one thing -- sunburn on vacation.

There is nothing worse than a sunburn on vacation and if you are pasty white there isn't enough sunscreen in the world to keep you protected. Left with few options I decided to take my girlfriend's suggestion and try a tanning bed.

I was told that a tanning bed would give me a "good base" and that a couple trips would be just what the sun doctor ordered. This was accompanied by giggles from my girlfriend and her daughter so I figured I was being setup.

The night came to visit the fake sun and I was clueless as to what to do. My first question was how long should I lay in the thing? My girlfriend's daughter said about 8-10 minutes but there was a chart I could look at. That didn't sound like very long but my girlfriend had just been burned at about seven minutes and was darker than me. I would have to look at the chart for sure.

Then I asked my next question which apparently was a dumb one.

"Should I wear sun screen? I don't want to burn."

I was told that sunscreen would defeat the purpose. Instead I was given some sort of coconut smelling lotion that apparently increased the "suns" effect 60 times. I was getting the feeling this wasn't going to turn out well.

When I walked into the room my girlfriend gave me a quick rundown of how to use the machine and as she walked out left me with these final instructions. "Now just strip down naked, rub the lotion on and you're good to go."

Absolutely not! The biscuits were going to stay in the basket. The giblets aren't going to see sun on the beach and they sure weren't gonna be uncovered in the cancer casket. I was keeping my shorts on.

I rubbed the lotion on the rest of my body and while doing so I saw a "No tanning without eyewear" sign. Right underneath was the message, "We don't provide eyewear."

Great, now I was not only going to get skin cancer, I was going to be blind as well. Blind on the beach meant not seeing sunsets, girls in bikinis or my girlfriend's fist heading toward my eye. I would have to keep my eyes shut at all costs.

As bad as I wanted to I wasn't going to back out, so I started looking for the chart. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the back of the door. I couldn't find a chart anywhere. I was on my own, so I turned it on 10 minutes and shut the top on myself.

Now I have never been claustrophobic, but lying in that machine that was essentially baking me I became a little uneasy. Actually I became a lot uneasy, so much so that I had to get out of the machine for a minute. I knew what it was. I needed some music, so I grabbed my phone and went back to bake.

That was better although I realized that I was squeezing my eyes shut so tight my head starting hurting. Better to have a headache than go blind though.

As I started to get used to the fake sun it suddenly shut off and my time was done. Only I had gotten out a short time so the genius I am I decided to restart it for another 10 minutes and stay under the death lamps for one more song.

I learned that an extra three minutes is like an extra five hours in the sun because when that song was over I felt like my skin was on fire. I jumped out of the fake and bake and as I went to turn it off I finally found that the chart was on the machine. I looked and it said a first time user with my skin color should stay in five minutes. That would explain the burning, melting skin.

I walked out of the room and could feel the cancer growing inside my burned, coconut-smelling skin. I wanted to jump in a big pool of freezing cold water, but settled for a cool shower.

But the strangest thing happened. I took off my shirt and looked in the mirror and while my ears were fire engine red my chest was just as white as when I went in. I guess fat doesn't tan but it fortunately didn't burn either. Although I swear it still smells like coconuts.

My girlfriend said I needed another time or two in the death trap but I think I will just get some SPF 5000 sunscreen instead for my beach trip. I'll just look like one of those porcelain sculptures instead of a bronze one.