The Russian and Turkish Baths

In the East Village of Manhattan, on 10th and 1st, there’s an 130 year old building with a subterranean facility of saunas, steam rooms, and a cold pool. It’s called the Russian and Turkish Baths. It’s managed by two men David and Boris. When you buy a pass you can go on alternating weeks, depending on whose pass you buy. A David pass is no good for Boris, vice versa. The lore is they are two brothers who hate each other, but it’s just the lore.

The first time I went I went during men’s only hours. Just some dudes rocking out. I figured that I didn’t want to be creepy or anything by going during co-ed. Changed in into the Russian bath ™ shorts, in the locker room, and descended the steep stairs, step by step. Many men rocking out with their cocks out. I went from the Turkish room, a three level, mid heat, damp sauna. Theres a shower operated by pulling a chain, like Madonna. You can feel the heat wash off you. Just kept to myself mostly.

I tried out the Redwood sauna (oooh), the aromatherapy room (ahh), the steam room (ooooh), and the Russian room. (There’s also a second floor patio, where you can smoke and cool down.) The Russian room mind bogglingly hot, where the heat radiates from stones cooked in a furnace overnight. The lore is the stones are gravestones. My dangly earring instantly got so hot it scorched my skin. There are several wells and constantly running spigots of cold water, paired with buckets to Madonna yourself. It’s oppressively hot. Instantly your mind goes blank and all you can feel is the heat. The buckets let you stay in there longer. Eyes on you, you ham up the bucket pouring for the audience.

Everyone is weak and sweaty. The people would be powerless to resist a strong leader in there. A nice German man slid next to me and started asking about what I do for work. “Ooooh a scientist, that’s very cool, we love scientists.” Jesus. He put his hand on my thigh and I said, “woah, I’m straight” and he pulled back and said “oh straight, that’s good, straight is good.” I left soon after.

They also offer “treatment.” In that room. The treatment is getting slapped with a bushel of oak leaves and doused with the cold water. I got a tattoo of the oak leaves on my left calf when I was moving out of New York.

The next time I went it was during co-ed hours. Everyone was a lot more chill. Lesson learned. I became a regular, as much as I could afford. I love the baths.

I brought an old (Jewish) college roommate when he was visiting. We enjoyed the various rooms. Sitting on the patio up top cooling down we were just talking shit. I talked about the CFO at the startup I worked for, who I said was very Jewish. He went to temple every week, but mostly he was just extraordinarily financially shrewd. One time he put two office supply companies on the same call as each other. They were screaming at each other about office chair prices and office chair practices on speaker phone in our open office floor plan. On mute he was laughing so hard tears streamed down his cheeks while they yelled at each other. Mad respect. Some guy on the patio chimed in “Oh yeah? He’s very Jewish? Really cheap huh? What do you mean by that? Are you Jewish?” Uhh, my friend is, I had family die in the holocaust, whatever dude.

Back to my conversation. “He’s also a registered clown.”

“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that? I’m a clown”

“What?”

“Yeah I’ve been clowning for years, I sent my kid to clown camp last summer.”

“…Why?”

He seemed flustered by that.

Another group sitting off to the side chimes in: “Yeah, I have a bunch of friends who are clowns, don’t feel weird” “Yeah, lots of clown friends.” Some kind of convention at the baths that day.

I brought another group of two of my closest friends. In the redwood sauna we met the heat douche. Some lady was slow leaving the sauna, holding the door open. “Hey! Close that door!” Said a tribal tatted 6’3” muscular thumb of a man. “Heh heh heh sorry about that guys, I’m kind of a heat douche.” Cartman voice “respect mah authoriteh! Heh heh heh” I appreciated it, there’s a little heat douche in me too.

He saw my big half gallon off brand hydroflask, and said “Nice water bottle man! I got one just like it but a gallon at Walmart for 10 bucks, sometimes I just throw a whole lemon in there and I’m good for the whole day.” Feelings of inadequacy washed over me, did I overpay? Could I have gotten a bigger water bottle? I looked it up later and no such bottle existed.

Later I saw him on the “Humans of New York” instagram page being interviewed about how he’s made 1,000 women orgasm with just his mind, without orgasming himself one time. Not even once. Many comments on the IG posts pined for a man like him. He trains dogs for a living. Knows about tantric sex. Looks like a taller buffer Vic Mackey.

I saw Dasha from Red Scare there once, and was surprised, and told her I had nothing more to say to her after asking if she was Dasha from Red Scare and her replying yes.