Shape House - Urban Sweat Lodge (158/158)

I was in need of a good detox after the annual Christmas debauchery, so I booked an appointment at Shape House. Shape House is the first and only urban sweat lodge (Their words not mine.) Before you get excited, no it’s not a concrete sauna covered in graffiti where you walk around in Fubu robes, drinking cucumber water out of 40s (Note: future business idea.) If I was in charge I’d probably call it more of a techno-sauna? The gist of it is; they wrap you in a heated sleeping bag and make you get fucked up sweaty.

You’ve never sweated like this before, welcome to Shape House, let’s sweat into it.

I booked my usual fake meeting, put a mannequin in one of the boardrooms and snuck out of work early.  The first and only urban sweat lodge is conveniently located just 1.2 miles from my office. Thing was it was too far to walk, yet too close to justify an Uber. Hmmm, I wish there was some form of transportation specifically designed for quick, short distance trips, something that’s app based maybe, that you could use on a case-by-case basis…

I fired up the app, jumped on the nearest scoot and birded the F over there. A 29 percenter was plenty of juice to get me to where I was going. Five minutes later I skidded to a stop in front of Shape House, chucked my bird into a bush, flipped up my clip-on sunglasses and walked in like a boss ready to sweat.

I guess it kind of looks lodge-y ?

When I checked in my sweat guide Susauna (I never got her real name) gave me a really long waiver to sign, knowing what I know now, that makes a lot of sense.

One thing that I found funny on the waiver was a question that just asked “Do you not sweat?” is that a thing? Do some people just not have the ability to sweat? Because I have a few friends that would pay a lot of money for that medical alignment. What would happen if someone who doesn’t sweat went to a sweat house? Would it all just build up and then they’d pop like a water balloon? Or would all the sweat shoot out of one single pore in a high pressure stream? No, actually thinking about it more they’d probably just die, yeah definitely just death.

After I signed away my life Susauna handed me a crate with grey sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt and thick socks and instructed me to go into the change room.  "Strip off all your clothes and change into these. I'll be back to take you to your room and tuck you in" She said.  "That's kind of nice" I thought, "Who doesn’t like to get tucked in every once in a while."

I got changed into the sweats but in a rookie move left my boxers on. Big mistake.  As I was putting on the clothes, I wondered how many people before me soaked these in their own sweat. Next time I think I’ll bring my own gear. After I was suited up Susauna lead me into a curtained booth like a massage table kind of scene. Inside was a small bed, TV, and the infamous electrically heated sleeping bag, or sweat bag as I like to call it.

So she tucks me in right up to my neck, with my arms by my side, and a plastic wrapped Apple TV remote in one hand. To my left there was a bottle of alkaline water (to drink if you're parched) and an alarm button (To press if you're dying.) Next she played a little introduction video for me. The instructions were as follows: "You will be in here for 55 minutes and the sweat bag will slowly rise up to 158 degrees." (Which as it turns out is the exact recipe for making a medium-rare steak in a sous vide.) "If you get too hot or your heart starts to race don’t panic, that’s normal. Try not to open the bag, just power through it." After the video Susauna said she’d come back to check on me and then repeated "Don’t get out." Please lady, I’m a pro heat man, I survived The Russian Bath House on 10th Street, I think I can handle an electric blankie designed for soccer moms who are too lazy to do hot yoga. 

So she leaves and I pop on an episode of Halt and Catch Fire, the irony of which was lost on me at the time. Snug as a bug, I was nice and cozy, feet all toasty, all I had to do was lay back, relax and watch the dramatized power struggles within the 1980's computer industry on AMC. This will be a breeze.

10 minutes later, I entered temperature awareness. “Oooh it’s getting a little steamy in here I can definitely feel it getting warmer. Nothing I can’t handle."

20 minutes later: When Susauna came in to check on me my entire face was glazed like a donut, beads of sweat were flowing down my brow like a watermelon in the sun and I had a bad case of tomato head. She asked me if I was doing okay and I nodded yes with a nervous but hiding it, smile. I was getting really hot, and a slight panic was setting in.

35 minutes later: The sweat bag was now filled with a deep pool of sweat, moving around was really splashy and the Apple remote had floated away long ago. I felt like a steamed dumpling. "This must be the limit" I thought "It can’t get any hotter, right?" I slowly squeezed my sweaty hand out of the little slit in the blanket to get a drink of water. I could barely grip the bottle because my hands were so slippery. I was so hot and thirsty I chugged half the bottle immediately, sweet alkalines. It was starting to get scary hot. I figured out that if I moved my body around in just the right way, sometimes a vacuum would suck in some cool air but the relief was fleeting. It was a whole other level of sweat, Sweat II. It was a deep, guttural sweat long forgotten in the crevasse of my internal organs. This ancient sweat had probably been with me for years.  The room started to smell like cigarette butts and rum and cokes. As I sloshed around in what might become my moist body bag I thought about that age old question; Would you rather die of heat exhaustion or freezing to death? It’s definitely freezing trust me.

When Susauna came back again I tried to play it cool but I was sweating so much at that point it probably looked like I had leaned back into a waterfall. She brought a towel this time, a cold towel and placed it over my forehead. It was heavenly. Then she asked me if I was doing okay and I said “I am now” in a tone that was more sexual than I had intended. Way to go you creeped out Susauna, now she’s not gonna check on you anymore, idiot. 

The last 15 minutes of the sweat sesh, as I was told in the video, is the most important part because that's when the real sweat starts. The real sweat...STARTS? I thought that's what sweat II was all about, was this a sweat trilogy? I didn't think I had any left, at that point it was just those wavy heat lines coming out of my pores. I had turned into a human aroma evaporator, shooting out essences of smokey rum and cokes.

It was twice as hot as the point I thought couldn't get hotter. I had entered sweat III. My only savior was knowing death would come soon. It was so fucking hot I took my earphones off, hoping maybe my ears could cool me down, like two air cooled radiators, but they failed me. Then my heart started racing, the beats felt off rhythm and disturbing and I thought I was gonna puke. Extreme panic began to set in. I could see it now, the velcro straps keeping the bag sealed would get stuck in a Final Destination kind of way and when they came back to check on me (longer than usual because I creeped out Susauna) I’d be a well-done Matt roast, gravy and all. I didn’t want to cheat but I couldn’t handle it any longer. I pulled one of my arms out and it flopped over the side of the bed. A steady stream of sweat poured off the tip of my finger on to the floor. The last droplets in my body, 21 grams of life sweat. This is how I will die.

Eventually I heard Susauna approaching and I quickly pulled my arm back in and sealed up the sweat bag to my chin. I didn't want her thinking I was some kind of heat baby.  I wasn't fooling anyone though I could see the look of disappointment on her face, she knew. Then in one quick beautiful movement she ripped open the velcro like a bag of microwave popcorn and a huge cloud of steam blasted into the air.  I looked down at my body and I was laying in a full pool of sweat. I didn't even know people had that much sweat in them. You know how they say that humans are 98% water? Well there was probably 30% of me left in that bag. I stood up and almost fainted immediately.

Susauna poured me out into a wicker chair in the chill/recovery room. There were two other women in there, but they weren’t half as sweaty and fucked up as I was. They looked like they just came back from a quick jog, while I looked like someone had pushed me into a pool. Susauna handed me some orange slices and lemon tea. "Yeah because the first thing I want after being cooked alive is a steaming mug tea Susauna!" I gave her the stink eye as bit into my orange slices. They were the best tasting orange slices I have ever eaten, I don’t know if the sweat pushed out some clog in my taste buds or something but each bite was like a summer vacation on my tongue. I ate all my slices like a starving monkey and then started eyeing one of the other lady's slices she hadn't finished. We weren’t allowed to talk in the chill room but I kind of made it clear what I was getting at with my eyes and eventually she handed them over, Reluctantly.

Once I was able to walk I found Susauna. “Hey where’s the shower?” … “The what?” she said.  “The shower, I’m covered in death sweat” “We recommend you don’t shower for at least 90 minutes after your session” to which I replied “Wait so I’m currently the sweatiest and smelliest I’ve ever been in my life, and I have to put my regular clothes back on? They’ll be ruined, I just bought these jeans” She just kind of shrugged and walked away, and as she did I could have sworn she whispered “heat baby” under her breath.

I went into the change room, peeled my clothes off and I slopped them into the bin. Seeing what happened to them fully confirmed my fears earlier of using their loaner sweats. And my boxers were obviously ruined, so they went straight into the garbage can. I guess I'll be going home commando. I towel dried as best i could but it was a sad sloppy mess.

After I got changed I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and to my surprise I noticed I was rocking a pretty impressive prenatal glow. I took a moment to really take in what I’d look like if I was pregnant, pretty and handsome at the same time, pransome.

My Uber driver on the way home was polite enough not to say anything, but I could see he was really having a hard time with the stink. He was covertly leaning his head out of the window, and breathing through his mouth the whole way home and I don't blame him. He probably thought I just had some chronic sweating disease and that's how I always smelled. I felt bad for permanently ruining his car so I left a good tip.

When I did finally have a shower I felt so clean afterwards, it was like when you were a kid and after a G.I. Joe fueled bath sesh you'd be just squeaky clean AF. Also that night, I slept like a goddamn baby.

All in all, steam bag'n is worth a shot. It’s definitely a interesting experience, it gives you a glimpse into what it’d be like to die of heat exhaustion, what you’re pregnancy glow would look like, and for a moment the feeling of being a clean sleepy baby. But I'd do it soon if you can because someone is definitely gonna die in a sweat bag any day now and the whole urban sweat party will be over forever.

Next Health Hangover I.V. [??/169]

The other day I dropped into 8000 Sunset to grab some snacks and I noticed a new store. It's called Next Health and it's a future spa. I think that’s what they’re going for at least? It looks like the kind of spa you’d see in Back to the Future II, in case you haven't pick this up yet, BTTF2 is my bar for  judging anything claiming to be futuristic.  No matter what year that fictional future took place BTTF2 will always be the future to me. Curious, I walked in to check out what they had to offer and learned they have hangover I.V. treatments. You know, what movies stars take when they’re hungover. So I decided I’d give it a try but it was pretty expensive so I decided, I really needed to get my money’s worth.

This was the plan: on Friday I was going to go out and intentionally get as hungover as possible. Sounds like a good idea right? Seriously this may have been the dumbest experiment I’ve done so far. It’s Wednesday and I still feel horrendous.  

Friday started off slow. I got home from work and all my friends seemed to either be out of town or not texting me back. What a loser.

Well I can still get perfectly drunk and hungover by myself. And considering half of hangovers are made up of shame and regret, getting blackout drunk alone in front of the TV surrounded by junk food, may end up contributing to my end goal.

I decided to start it off on familiar territory, the tried, tested and true; rum and cokes, huge glass of coke, tons of ice, one carefully measured shot of rum. I figured I might as well use my fancy rum for the occasion, la tee da. You know it's fancy rum because it makes the coke foam weird, but like in a delicious root beer float kind of way. I call that the RBF test.

It was already 8:30 and I needed to get this sad empty party train moving a little faster, so I slammed a delicious shot of room temperature rum. It wasn't looking good then just as I was putting on my sweatpant shorts for a night of Bridget Jones style drinking I got a text from my good ol’ buddy Tim. 

It’s party tiiiiiime! I threw my sweat pant shorts into the garbage, slammed another rum shot and ran out of my apartment. Next I hopped into a Lyft. Am I the only one that deleted their Uber app out of protest and can’t get it back? I even wrote them a shameful apology letter and they still won’t let me use their app, touche for sticking to your guns I guess?

Out of a mix of desperation and excitement I got there 15 minutes early. I walked up to the bar and ordered a pint and a shot of yager. Those go together right? Next I hit the patio and lit up a smoke, something else that would be crucial in maximizing my hangover.  The plan was to smoke the entire pack by nights end. Gross I know but is there anything better than having the first ice cold pint and crispy smoke, on a patio after a hard days work. I know that’s cliche but I don’t GAS, it’s cliche because everyone knows it's the best thing you can do.

T-bone finally showed up. Time to mix it up. "Martini extra dry please." I’ve never ordered a martini, nor do I know what extra dry means. Good day to start. Nothing like a beer-tini, classic. I was soon lapping Tim on drink rate. and tripling him on pee rate. 

It was a blast, solid Friday after work hang. A perfect mix of future dreams and schemes and exorcising the stresses of work life. By the end I think I had about five beers, a martini, two yager shots and a glass of red wine. Plus the rum and cokes from earlier. That could ensure a solid hangover the next day…..

If I was some kind of amateur.

I still had a few mistakes in me. Edendale quiets down around 1am and Tim and I decided to “cascade." I called a Lyft and then last minute I decided to booty call Gordy. No hangover is complete without a regrettable last minute decision to stay out. To make my hangover complete I needed a “I was fine, until I went to [BLANK] that was where everything went wrong” and that's exactly where we wanted to go Friday night, to wrong. A one way ticket to wrongtown please, it's on the corner of bad idea and I blew it street, thanks. No reply though, he must have crashed early like a smart adult. I jumped into my lyft and we headed towards home, and then Gordy texted me back.

I looked up at my Lyft driver through the rearview mirror “Shorry shir, I hash to change the desha-nashion” BEEP BOOP, “Yoush ga it?” I wonder how many times that happens to Uber drivers every night. Some one gets into the back seat alone and sad on their way home and then their phone beeps and they look up at the driver with a crooked smile and wobbly eyes and goes “I hash to change the desha-nashion." Somebody should write a song about that. "Chang the Deshy" 

It gets a little foggy from here on out. Turned out Gordy was doing a similar experiment I just don’t think he knew it. I really mixed it up at Gordo’s. Exactly what I was looking for. He had ran out of most booze so it was a whatever you can find in the fridge kind of situation. Vodka watermelon soda anyone? That’s my drink how’d did you know.

Whiskey in a can? I love canned whiskey!

Another vodka melly please.

Pack of smokes crushed, moved on to Tucker's. I think I’m going to make it.

Nice to meet you, I’m Matt. 

AAAAND WE'RE DONE - FILE NOT FOUND - PLEASE RE-INSERT DISC - PLEASE REMOVE BRAIN BLOW ON IT, AND RE-INSERT.

*ADJUSTING TRACKING*

TUNING AM RADIO 

“ZAAEET....ZEEERZZ....BUZZZ...DIIIZZ------Deeeespacito, hamanama cito something something epizoto…Despacito shamamlama burrito, scheming something bonito"

Why is it that when you’re super hangover the first thing that brings you into reality is a song stuck in your head? And why is that song always the worst out there?  And why is it a song you don’t really know that well so it's just a small section of it, with bastardized lyrics repeating over and over. That’s gotta be brain damage right?

"Despacito something something Mespazitoooooo"

I hadn’t done a full status report yet I was still floating around in my foggy brain. I looked around inside my consciousness. There was definitely damage in there. Trash everywhere, water on the floor, wires hanging from the ceiling, flickering overhead lights, few broken windows, garbage can fire. Yeah shit definitely went down in here last night. But nothing I wasn't expecting.  

Alright time to turn the central nervous system on, check the pain dails. Huh, lower than expected. Better run a sobriety check. Oh wow, yup definitely still hammered. Alright, that’s good news gives us a small window to get to the I.V. center before the category 10 hangover hits shore. 

So I was definitely hungover, mission successful I guess? I may have actually out done myself. I was really beat up, my body under the covers was shivering cold and my exposed head was a million degrees, temperature sensors were all bunged up. I knew I was be gonna much worse in the next few hours. My lungs felt like I had huffed a bag of gold paint and glass dust but I was functional. 

Do you ever get that feeling where you just wish you could screw the top of your head off, pull out your brain, drop it in the sink and clean it like a dirty pot. And then open a little door on your stomach and scoop out all the garbage in there. And then take your lungs and throw them into the garbage, open a fresh bag of new lunges and replace then like a coffee filter? One day. That's MY definition of Next Health, call me when you have brain cleaning technology.

I rolled over to check my phone hoping to put the puzzle pieces together since the dip-to-black transition at Gordy's. 

Alright I hope I didn’t drink when I got home..

Uh oh, funny gag, just don’t open that—haha okay you had your fun now put it back. 

Oh god don't drink it --—

Well, way to go idiot you really committed to the bit, here’s you Pulitzer prize. That was a $300 bottle of booze you opened asshole, and you don’t even like scotch. 

No time to get on the shame train, I need to get to the future spa. I gave them a ring. 

"Hello Next Health"

“Hey can I book an appointment for an I.V. treatment?”

“Yeah sure of course, what treatment would you like?”

“The hangover I.V.”

Her demeanor changed in a snap

“Ohh, hmmm, okay, you know you can’t come in here if you’re gonna puking everywhere.”

“I’m not puking”

“But will you?”

“No!”

"Alright fine come in an hour”

Sesh if Reese Witherspoon books a hangover I.V. appointment they’re probably like “Yeah come in sweetie we'll make you feel better. How much? Oh it's free just get down here girl” but when an average butthead wants a hangover treatment they treat you like a stray dog in Cancun taking a dump on the beach. Maybe I’ll just suffer through my hangover out of spite. I’m not gonna puke, so assumptious.  Okay well I'm not 100% sure I won’t puke. This better make me feel like Jesus christ reborn, I better be able to walk on water after this and heal people with my touch.

I threw on some comfy clothes, took a quick after shot for my before and after photo and ran out the door.

I walked up to the counter to check in 

“Hello welcome to Next Health, great day outside, what can I help you with? A wheatgrass shot, a protein booster, maybe a workout recovery treatment?”

“Um I called earlier I’m here for the hangover I.V.”

Smile turns upside down.

“Oh it's you.. COUGH-DEGENERATE"

“Wait, What did you--”

“huh, nothing I just couched, COUGH-FUCKENLOSER."

“You just did it aga--“

“I have a cold sir, just sit over in that corner and fill out this form, are you sure you’re not gonna vomit?”

Entire room turns to look at me, guy with headband and booster juice running on the spot shakes his head in disapproval.

“Yes I promise I’m not going to vomit” Sesh.

I'm not really sure what that future cryogenic pod is all about, but I'll definitely try it out one day. I wrote my name on the form struggling more than usual because of the brain damage, really focusing to make sure I didn't write the "R" backwards. Then this group of handsome British dudes comes in. Handsome British dudes get away with absolutely everything in LA everyone loves them, Colin from Love Actually knew what was up. I've had two separate British guys say that, "It's just too easy mate." They walked up to the counter and the difference in how the receptionist treated those guys was staggering. “Yeah come on in, whatever you want, you don’t need an appointment, there is this one guy here (hand over mouth) but I’ll push you ahead of him. Deadbeat loser, I’ll fill your forms out for you just go back there" “Thingks lassie!” She giggles "Oh you"

I looked up from my 7 page form, “What the fuck?” but I told myself, Just stick with it, it’s going to be worth it, you’re gonna feel like a million bucks. You will probably feel so good you can do some chores, go for a run, maybe even go out tonight again like no big deal, it’s gonna be worth it. 

I handed in my form and the receptionist took it without looking up from her computer. I sat back down on the couch, I was pretty excited. I watched those British guys get ready for the cyropod thing. The receptionist watched too with her pen halfway in her mouth. They looked like they were having a blast, such good buds. “Bloody hell it's gonna be so cold in there mate” the whole place was watching now, giggling and smiling. Those guys probably have a blast. I bet they watch soccer games at weird hours and drink pints, and call each other flatmates.  I pictured myself hanging out with them as their one American lad, drinking Guinness, eating bags of crisps at the bar and laughing over a game of Gin Rummy.

“Okay Mart Unwort come back now, COUGH-YOU-PIECE-OF-SHIT."

She showed me to the "doctor’s office." I waited for a while and that's when my hangover started to creep in. I entered swallow awareness and my mouth began to sweat. My stomach must have woken up looked around and was like “Jesus christ what the fuck happened in here, why does it reek like watermelon?” "I might puke" I thought. "But I can’t, I’ll swallow it if I have to, over and over again, I’m not giving that snooty receptionist the satisfaction of an 'I told you so.' Even if it means barfing in one of their drawers." That’s when the “doctor” came in, and when I say "came in" and "doctor" what I really mean is the receptionist walked into the room with an iPad and a doctor on FaceTime.

You can tell she hates me just by the way she's standing.

The doctor just wanted to make sure I could handle the I.V. I guess, who knows where she was calling in from, if she was even a doctor or if she was wearing pants? What made the whole thing more awkward was I was sitting down and the reception was standing up, so she had the iPad at her waist, I was essentially talking to the receptionist's crouch. I glanced up at her at one point and I’m pretty sure she rolled her eyes. It'd be funny if just then I projectile barfed directly into the iPad. That'd show her. The weird thing was it was a fully dressed doctor’s office, was that just for show? Like if the doctor only called in via FaceTime then why have the jars of cotton swabs and ear thingies. Or does she sometimes go “Okay receptionist please grab the thermometer in your left hand, okay, good, now but it in the patients butt” 

The doctor was nice “Good morning Mart Unwort, what have you come in for today?” “Hangover I.V. mam” like a kid who just pee’d his bed. This whole third degree process was beginning to not be worth it. Am I getting a hangover remedy or my appendix out? Shesh.

Finally I get brought into the IV room, it’s me and a woman who I would bet a hundred bucks is on a reality show. She had that discount face filler look like she goes to the Taco Bell of plastic surgery places.  Then the nurse came in who was A) so nice, she was funny and kind and didn’t judge me when I told her I was getting the hangover bag, I think I was unusually receptive to kindness after the receptionist bullied me all morning, and B) She was incredibly attractive. 

When she jabbed the needle in my arm I barely whimpered I think she was impressed by my toughness. At this point across the hall those British dudes were in their undies going in and out of the cryo-chamber. They were all ripped and slapping each other's butts and jabbing each other with wacky english slang. My nurse was much more interesting in that then wrangling the needle in my arm, but I don’t really blame her. She hooked up the I.V. bag of bright yellow nutrients opened up the valves and left me to it. I looked up at the bag and my veins were straight chugging. The reality star woman across from me was going like drip….drip….drip… and mine was like dripdripdripdripdripidrpidridiprpidpidpipdrip.

I just laid back and took in the juice. During my drip sesh the reality show girl’s friend came in and they had the exact conversation you’d hear in a reality show, it was kind of crazy, I looked around to see if there was a camera crew there. it was like “You know, Donnie is crazy but like fun crazy, he works hard and he plays hard. We're all a little crazy you know what I mean, but we know when we have to be real and get things done we step.”

Now the British hunks had brought the nurse into their ice cold undie party, she was laughing with her hand on one of the guys chest “Oh my god you're so cold” “That’s the point lassie, me and me mates are going to Spoink tonight you should come” “I’ve always wanted to go to Sploink” “We’ll put you on the list lassie, give me your deeegeets”  --- Me "Can I come tooo?"

I watched all this slouched in my chair like a decrepit 100 year old human man dying of leprosy. I soon bag lapped the woman across from me, I guess my veins were just wider than hers, no biggie, just got big ol' viens. I eventually vein chugged my bag and nurse bandaged me up.

Next I walked up to the counter to pay my bill ,the total cost  [RECORD SCRATCH] $169!! 

ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE DOLLARYDOOS!

After forking over my retirement fund I stood outside in the blinding sun one hour and one I.V. bag of hangover recovery juice later. VERDICT..

I felt exactly the same as I walked in, maybe even a little worse. If the nurse had just poured the bag on to the floor, I think I would have felt the same. Maybe...just maybe, there was a tornado creeper hangover heading towards me and it curbed it off. But that’s kind of a cop out.

My theory is when the nurse was inserting the needle she got distracted by those British dudes and she stabbed right through the vein tube and out the other side and the bag just drained into my arm guts? Any nurses out there? Would the bag drain if she missed my vien? My arm wasn’t filled with water or anything. Would I be able to tell if that happened somehow, would I have a Popeye forearm? The bag had to have emptied somewhere, the needle was in my arm, but nothing? Was just my left arm hangover free now?  

After that my entire weekend was toast. I had a full two day hangover. So all-in-all, not the best experiment. I’d give it another try but for that price, yeah no thanks.

Thanks for nothing Next Health, more like No-Effects Health. Burn.

Bird - 29% out of 100%

Do you guys Bird? Everyone is bird’n these days. You were probably standing outside of the bar the other night, and when you asked your friend if he was gonna call an Uber, he said “I’m gonna bird it” and you were like, “totally…” In case you are out of the loop, Bird is a new hot startup, that FINALLY combines all the ride sharing conveniences of Uber, with coolness of Razor scooters. 

Darn Toot'n Let's Go Scoot'n - you can have to one Bird

I discovered Bird, serendipitously, I was sitting in my usually spot puffing a smoke in front of my office, and this dude, does a slide stop on his E-scooter, jumps off, flips up his clip-on sunglasses and walks into the building. I watched him curiously, he didn’t lock it up or anything, pretty bold move if you ask me. It took me about five times of that happening for me to clue into what was going on. It got weirder too because it was always different people. Slide in, jump off, flip up clip-on sunglasses, no lock, zero fucks. Okay I exaggerated they didn't all have clip-on sunglasses. 

I finally gained the courage to walk up to the scoot and inspected it, face painted with skepticism, caution and intrigue. Smoke dangling from my mouth. Confused in this strange foggy future we live in.  Was this some kind of new wave delivery service? Laser mail?

I looked around making sure no co-workers were watching, it was possible it was a nerd trap. The scoot had a little QR code on it, and a little sticker that said, "I'm a bird, download my app."  QR codes, apps, E-scooter, definitely a nerd trap. I'd reach out and touch the handle bars and all of a sudden a net would fall and a bunch of football jocks would run out of the bushes and start kicking me. 

I googled "Bird" then "Bird Scooters" literally nothing but a few crappy youtube reviews videos. No real information, not even a website.  FAQ? Yeah keep dreaming. Zero instructions, just like Snapchat, this new generation hates instructions.  How far can you scoot, how much does it cost, what are the rules, are you allowed to do tricks? 

So I figured, if they aren’t going to tell me any info, I’ll have to find out myself and seeing how this blog has spiraled into an alternative transportation review site. I came up with a scheme.

Why don’t I try and take this MF'er all the way home from Santa Monica to Hollywood. Is there a proximity limit? No clue. Cost per mile? Sorry bud.  What about just bunny hops? My commute is about ten miles and takes me an hour (I know). 10 miles isn't that far in a car, but it's pretty far to scoot. Can I get home faster if I Bird it? Only one way to find out.

I got prepared for my wild road trip in the mother’s quiet room at work. It’s kind of chilly in LA right now, so I put on a jacket and hoodie. The app said I needed to wear a helmet but the only one I had was the one I bought for my mini bike. It would have to do. Next I slopped a big ol' lick onto my Go Pro suction cup mount and popped it onto my helmet, "POP" "Let's do this."

I snuck out of work 15 minutes early, to ensure I got the best scooter, I was worried they would all be taken when I got outside. And sure enough I walk out to where the scooter was earlier and it was gone. I pulled a full spazz out, jumping up and down, foot stomping, Go-Pro bobbing everywhere. After regaining my composure I opened up the app to see if there was another bird in the area. It wasn’t looking good, there were two close by but their batteries were only at 20% juice. There was a cherry 48 percenter a half mile away but what if I hoof it all the way there and someone snagged it out from under me?

This whole adventure was turning into a bust. Then I thought "fuck it, I got all prepared and faked a meeting to make this happen, I have to risk it all and run as fast as I can to the 48er before anyone else gets to it." But just as I’m about to sprint down the street this woman pulls up to the curb straight bird’n it. She does a sick skid stop, hops off, and walks into the building without looking back, super tough. If the scooter had blown up behind her that would have looked awesome. 

I went up to check the charge, 50% or a Half Chicken Dinner as I like to call it. Sweet. I took one last look to make sure no one from my work was around, tightened my helmet strap and peeled off. Oh you guys still commute? That’s cool I guess. Oh me? I scommute, it’s this new thing. It’s really big in Santa Monica, no big deal.

Darn Toot'n Let's Go Scommute'n

The scooter goes pretty fast, and it’s cherry smooth. The app said I had to drive on the road, but fuck that, I’m not getting smoked by a pickup truck, think how embarrassing that obituary would be. There are some bike lanes but I feel a biker would just push me over. Bikers and scooterers will always be arch nemesis. I started off on the side streets, scooting down the sidewalk, looking super cool. To start it you have to jump the thing like a moped by pushing it with your foot, which is dumb because it’s not like it’s a gas engine. Why can’t you just turn it on? On second thought it’s probably to stop a mom from putting one foot on it, hitting the throttle by mistake and scooting off the end of Santa Monica pier. 

It started out pretty great, scooting down quiet streets checking out the view. For the moment I thought I could get into the scoot life, even though I looked like the biggest nerd I’ve ever looked, and that’s saying a lot, just ask anyone from my grade school about my radio bike invention, I’ll give you a hint, it included an old timey bike, computer speakers and a shit load of duct tape.

I stopped and took a moment to get a snap in front of this christmas light display. While I was doing it this guy walked up and goes “Are you still using that?” "Yeah I’m still standing on it, fuck off bud get your own scoot." Dude needs to read my upcoming article on Scoot etiquette. Straight up goof move if you ask me.

Next I ripped up to Santa Monica blvd. where the real action is. Seeing how my commute is an hour long bumper to bumper log jam it was very satisfying zooming by all the red lit, stopped cars. I had AirPods in, listening to music on my phone, with a tiny camera on my head ZZZZZ’n along on my laser scoot. We really do live in the future guys, I could zoom through the background in BTTF2 and no one would bat an eye. 

So I pass the 405 without breaking a sweat. At this pace I’m going to make it home in no time, well like 45 minutes, but beating my commute would be a huge triumph. Had a few scary moments out on the street but I summoned the courage to  thread the needle for like five cars. 

And drove through a car wash like a mother fucking dare devil. 

After the 405 I cruised up a steady incline. That’s when things started going downhill, how ironic.  So I’m cruise'n up the street and the scooter starts beeping, but I hadn’t gone that far and it was at 50% WTFS.  So I ingored it and kept going, then it started flashing its little red light, then it started puttering and then it just died. Well that’s bullshit. 50% of nothing. What the fuck am I gonna do now?

There goes my goal of beating the system and becoming the scommute hero. Also the piece of shit died in the middle of nowhere and I was surrounded by bumper-to-bumper traffic.  But I wasn’t going to give up that easily. I wasn’t sure exactly which areas Bird serves, but I thought I’d take the chance and turn on the app like a sad lonely person opening tinder at 3am. I just left the scooter there on the sidewalk, it feels really weird to just leave it randomly on the street and walk away. So the app loads, and just by sheer luck, there was another bird a few blocks away. It only had 29% but that would have to do. 

I walked to the next block and looked around but I couldn’t see it, according to the map I was standing right on top of it. There’s a button on the app you can press to have the scooter beep to find it, so I hit it and heard the beep, down someone’s driveway.

Seriously dawg? Get some Scettiqute. Goof move.

Look at this asshole, hoarding scoots. That piece of shit was trying to hide it so he could take it to work the next day for sure. Sorry bud, that’s my scoot now. I walked down this guys driveway, unlocked the scooter, and took off again. Fuck that guy. It did really feel like I was stealing it though, so I cranked the throttle and peeled out of there at max 7 mph.

Have fun walking to work tomorrow ya goof.

Even though it was a 29er, it was right cherry smooth. I deeked off the residential streets back up to Santa Monica, and cruised all the way to Beverly Hills with zero worries mate. Out of my way rich people, I gotta make it home, I’m VIPOAS, check this out I’m gonna drive through your velvet rope, deal with it. 

The only problem I had was where to put all the phone numbers I was getting from all the rich babes that I drove by. Beverly Hills has a special place in my heart because it was the first place I stopped when I drove to LA in my early twenties.  I pulled into a gas station and Paris Hilton was there pumping her gas and I was like like “Woah this place is magical”  

Next I cut back up to Santa Monica blvd., the scooter was still zzzz’n along hard. At first it seemed like this was a bad move because there aren’t really sidewalks on that part of Santa Monica, and people drive highway speeds on it. But I found a dirt path through the park. Time for an off-road test.  

Bird handled it like a champ, until that dirt road ended and the only choice I had was to cross the street and scoot down a section of the road that was under construction. It was super dark and the oncoming headlights were blinding. I had a bad feeling any moment I’d just drive straight into a hole and fall down into a sewer tunnel. Luckily that didn’t happen.

I made it out of there eventually and on to a quiet one way street. It was awesome I had the full road to do swervies and sick slides.   

That lasted for about ten minutes until the scooter started beeping again. This time it just died immediately, wheels locked up and it was like “Nah bud not going anywhere” again on a random street. That’s two down, I turned the app back on for a hail merry. No birdies for miles. Mother fucker. Stranded, in a dumb orange helmet.

I aaaalmost made it? One more scoot would have done it. Or maybe if I found two fully charged ones? Maybe if I tried it first thing in the morning, though that would kind of miss the point of the scummute.  All told I made it about 6 or 7 miles in around an hour, for a total cost 15 bucks. Which is probably how much it would have cost to just uber, but that’s not the point is it.

Defeated I called an Uber. Let's be honest we all knew this is how it was going to end. I eventually got home about two and half hours after I left, so all-in-all, not the best commute option.  If I find a 100 percenter sitting outside someday I’m going to try again, because if you could make it the whole way on one single scoot, I think I could beat my time

Until another day, another scoot, scootcha later. 

-SCOOTLIFE, SCOMMUTE, ZZZZ'N