Truth to tell, I am not one to make a fuss over religious holidays. I like a chocolate bunny as much as the next man, and who doesn't like to stuff a stocking each Christmas? But when it comes to reverential observances, I have my own house of worship: the bathhouse.A couple of years ago I decided to spend Easter weekend in the country north of my own, to attend a nudist dance and also see how my Canadian cousins marked the Christian holiday.
As it turned out, Jesus had little to do with my trip. But in the course of the weekend, I did observe the re-erection (multiple times) and ended up in a kind of unholy trinity, the ecstasy of which I doubt I will ever forget.
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