Go Float Yourself

I'm not super duper claustrophobic but I don't like dark caves. I need my bearings. I need to know where the light switch is. 

So when a couple of friends mentioned they 'float' I was surprised to find myself thinking "cool, I'd like to try that!"

Floating is a practice where you enter into an enclosed tub (also called an isolation tank or sensory deprivation tank) which is filled with 10 inches of water and a bunch of Epsom salts. Like 800 lbs of it. It's a practice that's been around forever I guess. Here, I'll let the website explain it:

"The water is heated to the same temperature as the surface of your skin so that when the water settles and you remain relaxed and still, you do not really feel the water anymore. The tank is light-proof and sound-proof and has a neutral smell. All forces of gravity on the musculoskeletal system and nervous system are eliminated from the extreme positive buoyancy; so imagine a space where you don’t feel anything, nor do you see or hear anything. The tank’s extremely unique environment is designed to allow for a minimal amount of sensory input to enter into your nervous system. This environment then has a plethora of benefits and applications for health, personal development, spirituality, and well-being."

I booked an appointment, eager to try this out. Everyone I had talked to said claustrophobia wasn't a problem, but what if I'm like, the one person who spazzes? What if they forget about me in the tank? What if, after 90 minutes, I come out of the tub and the zombie apocalypse has finally happened and I'm stuck in a robe and flip flops smelling like a delicious salty steak to my new zombie friends?

When I arrived at Flouthouse Victoria the man at the front desk told me to take my shoes off which I thought was a bit forward, but hey, man, whatever, dude. 
Then he motioned to the waiting room that consisted of two bean bag chairs which, once one is plopped on, one is unable to gracefully disembark from, FYI.
After a run through of how floats work I was left to my pre float shower and ready for some sensory deprivation. I climbed in, closed the lid, lay down, and turned the light off.

I don't like dark caves. I need my bearings. I need to know where the light switch is. 

I panicked a  bit, slapping the walls to find the light switch that in a matter of seconds had moved a million miles away from me. I took a breath. Felt my heart beating, got settled again, and turned the light back off, focusing on my heart. It was really present, all of a sudden, and I thought that was really cool. And it felt like I was slowly drifting in circles, away from the light switch, and my bearings. And I didn't care. 

The 90 minutes seemed to go by fairly quickly. Or maybe they didn't - I couldn't tell. 
I wondered if the zombie apocalypse had started already. I thought about what I was going to do tomorrow. My stomach growled, which prompted me to think about dinner, which led me to deciding on nachos, followed by me thinking about avocados but to be fair, I think about avocados a lot. (Avocados are a very tumultuous fruit, you see.) 

I wondered if my time was up and if the dude at the front who'd clearly stolen my shoes had forgotten about me. I wondered what happens during an earthquake. 
My toes touched the wall of the tub suddenly which was weird because I'm positive I was just floating through space. I wanted to float forever.

Then the music started and the lights slowly came on and my time was up. And I was really mad about that. I wanted more. I wasn't quite done thinking about avocados yet.
I showered, dressed, and went back into the loud, bright world all Bambi like, plotting my next visit.

And, ya, I got my shoes back.