Surrealism in the Spa

I think I've caught something pretty severe.
Luckily, though,
I can't pass it on to anyone through naked spanking in the sack.

I've caught
a Reoccurring Theme in my life.
It's the I'm-constantly-being-abducted-and-dropped-into-surreal-worlds-
and-then-spit-out-again-only-to-feel-like-I've-been-sucking-pipe-with-
Edgar-Allen-Poe-for-either-ten-minutes-or-ten-years Theme.

So, there we were...
three enormous, sweat-melting foreigners in the midst of grandfathers in yukatas at a village festival.
Out of ecological respect for the environment, we decided to dive into the free public bath house on the main square. You know... to prevent our bodies from releasing any more pungeant toxins into the clean, country air...

And that's when I realized I'd gotten the "Magically Unreal Experience Disease".

I bowed through the curtain with the kanji for 'woman' and passed through the gate into a psychadelic world worthy of an Asimov novel. Or a Tom Waitts song...
Before my eyes could adjust to the sulfur-scented haze, I was surrounded by a flock of nine Japanese women who cooed "little sister" at me and sang what I can only describe as a hip hop-cum-gospel Sirens' Song.
I undressed and floated over to the hotspring pool where women with multiple stomachs poured bowls of water over me.
Then, they led me into a cauldron of boiling water that no sentient being should ever enter
unless they plan on becoming stew...
or roasted foreigner on a stick
with lightly toasted rice balls on the side....

It was kind of like entering a Salvador Dali painting when you are expecting to go to the zoo and see panda bears and monkeys throwing feces...

But, anyway...
I've frequented Japanese public baths (onsens) for about three years now,
and this is the first time I have ever thought:
"Hey, maybe I'm not just some scraggly-haired girl from California... Maybe..just maybe... I'm the roast pig at the annual county fair..."