Spilsh, Splash!

Hope springs eternal in a quaint resort town nestled in the rural central hills of Arkansas, aptly named Hot Springs for the warm water emanating from the mountain side. Oddly enough, it is also the hometown of one William Jefferson Clinton - thoroughly discussed in our last post.

For centuries this forested oasis has been a place to relax the body and rejuvenate the soul by hob knobbing with your fellow man and woman. In pre-European settlement days, Choctaw and Cherokee tribes formally agreed to lay down arms in the valley to jointly partake in the healing powers of the warm water. Similarly, Hot Springs was rife with titans of organized crime in the early 20th Century, and stood as a neutral resort town for both Chicago and New York mob families. Sounds like a perfect spot for the Random Road Trippers to cleanse after fully immersing themselves in the comparatively sinful Louisiana lifestyle.

Known for its medicinal properties, the water gurgles from the ground at a sultry 140 degrees year round. The water is warmed by the radioactive decay of minerals deep in the ground and emerges 4,000 years after it fell on the valley as rain. Where the creek once flowed in the 1800s on the north side of town now stands a row of nearly a dozen ornate, Art Deco bath houses. Each has its own style - generally borrowed from a different European region - but as a group they stand testament to adoration for European decadence, elite American leisure, and the burgeoning medical treatment practices of the early 1900s.

Recognizing the region's cultural and medical importance and potential for private exploitation, local and national leaders proclaimed Hot Springs as one of the earliest reserved parkland in the United States, and it has been managed by federal authorities since the 1830s.

Open for tours, the Random Road Trippers couldn't resist trying out every amenity and room at Fordyce House. First to take the leap, Jason swattled himself in heavy linens and spent 45 minutes in the steam chamber proclaiming he had found his, "one true spirit animal, which shall guide me to…" before passing out in a heap of euphoria.

And in less than 25 minutes Ben had recorded and tagged every peephole peering into the woman's chambers. While momentarily amazed at speedy rundown, even someone with the low morals of Ben, he soon confessed his secret that while touring Bill Clinton’s bedroom in Hope, he had discovered a small notebook stashed by our former president in his old roll top desk that outlined each one of Billy’s favorite spots.

After being disappointed that the nude outdoor deck was no longer operational, Beets decided to instead try out some of the premier electro-mechanco relaxation devices known to the early 20th century. If you thought his eyebrows stood out before, you should see them now!

Did Jason choose this location for its healing powers, famous architecture or did he want to continue the lovefest for the 42nd President? One can only guess, but the road trippers were relaxed and ready to go on to their next destination.