Last week, I found myself chilling out among five tons of pink Himalayan salt that was more than 250 million years old. Even though my escape into cool darkness involved a few strangers, one who even started to snore, I was able to relax and let my mind wander.
I felt like a grain of salt on the margarita of life.
The place is called the Louisville Salt Cave, and for a small fee ($35), you can check your troubles at the door for 45 minutes and enter pure bliss.
Salt therapy, also called halotherapy, is said to not only help things like allergies and inflammation, it also promotes deep relaxation and gives you that peaceful feeling you find sitting at a tiki bar near the ocean.
I only have two gripes about the experience.
First, its location near the corner of Shelbyville Road and Hurstbourne Parkway is a nightmare for anyone who doesn’t live in the East End. My blood was boiling by the time I finally made it into the strip-mall parking lot, and even after my wonderful session, it was hard to remain calm trying to steer the ship back to Germantown.
I’ll never understand why people in this city think using a blinker is optional. It’s not a topping at Qdoba — “Skip the cilantro and left turn signal, but add extra cheese, please.” Use it, or I’m gonna lose it.
But back to remaining calm.
Second, while I enjoyed the silence and darkness, I could have used some Enya tunes, or guided meditation, or possibly even bar service and a foot rub while I was breathing in all the goodness of the negative ions. Turns out they actually have a guided meditation option for the same price. But I think they should consider some cocktails and a massage as well.
Just a thought.
The important lesson I realized, however, is that we all need to take better care of ourselves. Whether that’s a dip in a salt cave, a sip of a salted-rim margarita or a trip to the beach, we need to take time out to de-stress and enjoy the limited number of days we have on this planet.
Recently, I asked Jim Beam master distiller Fred Noe what he thinks about all this bourbon hoarding and collecting going on. He told me, “You better drink that stuff up — or someone will drink it for you.”
In other words, you can’t take it with you.
And all this money you’re spending on go-go gadgets, fancy cars, pretty clothes and gaudy jewelry to make yourself feel better is crap. Travel, read, buy a drink for a stranger, open your mind to opportunity and experience.
A pair of Jordans means nothing to me. But a trip to Jordan would change my life.
But what do I know? All I’m saying is, if you can’t get to the beach this year, try out the salt cave. Take care of yourself and treat yourself better. Eat ice cream. Dance in the rain. Laugh. Love. Be nice. And use the turn signal, dammit.