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The 6-Minute Shower

Matted hair after one day
of not showering.

When you're out in Terlingua, in the Big Bend region of West Texas, or in the middle of any arid, desert climate, you're faced with an interesting conundrum after a couple of days. Your pores are clogged by dust, your insides have completely dehydrated, and your hair has begun forming dreadlocks. Taking a shower is almost pointless. Everyone else is just as dusty and smelly as you are - and anyway, you don't smell too much because the sweat immediately evaporates off your skin. Besides, you'll immediately get dusty within hours. On the other hand, you want to feel somewhat human again, even if for only a little white, and you think it might be nice to be able to run a brush through your hair.

The thing is, in places like Terlingua, many people don't have running water in their homes, which are often restored ancient adobe structures, trailers, cabins, sheds, domes, or other creative forms of housing. And even in places that they do, it's sacred because there's so little of it. At the El Dorado Hotel in the Ghost Town, there's a little switch by the bathroom sink, so you can turn on the hot water. Except, they don't label the switch (at least, not in the room we stayed in). I suspect it's a sneaky trick, so tourists don't realize there's hot water, but they are desperate enough to take an extremely fast cold shower. (Which is what I did.)

Entry to the changing room
adjoining the shower stall.

Many folks have outdoor solar showers, and even in the winter, the daytime sun can create sufficient warmth. But hand-washing sinks are only one temperature. The locals have a joke that there's hot water in the summer, and cold water in the winter. Luckily, at the Big Bend Motor Inn, there are super deluxe coin-operated showers. The women's bathroom has two shower stalls - they're always well maintained, very clean, and they have an adjoining private changing area so you can hang your towel and keep your belongings dry.

The showers cost you $2, and you have to insert it all in quarters. I have to wonder in what kinds of varying states of grime the staff at the front desk has seen people come up and ask for change. The showers are supposed to last six minutes. At first, I thought, there's no way I can take a full shower in six minutes. I took $4 worth of quarters with me the first time I showered at the Big Bend Motor Inn. At home in Austin, I've easily taken close to 30-minute showers. Why? Because I could. Because it felt good. Because it's easy to think deliciously warm water can flow out of the shower head forever and ever at full pressure.

So the first time I took a shower at the Big Bend Motor Inn, I was prepared to have to step into the adjoining change room and insert another two dollars worth of quarters, with my hair full of shampoo and soap in my eyes. Just in case, though, I hurried up and got my shampooing, soaping, and scrubbing done as quickly as possible. Then I was done. And the water was still running. I decided to scrub my feet and behind my ears a little more. And the water kept running. I stood there, simply enjoying the hot water. And just when I was starting to think it was never going to end, the water stopped. But I was more than clean enough.

I never timed the showers, and I've taken about a dozen of them at that facility. But I don't doubt they were six minutes, or maybe even ten minutes at most. My theory is that when you know your water source is limited, you're more efficient about how you use it. And even when you have less than you think you need, it's actually more than you need.

$2 for a 6-minute shower. More than enough time.