Faked but not fried

If the weather of late is any indication, that shining spring sun is one magnificent star. The goodness of its warmth, however, can only remind us of the true nature of its gaseous existence. It's a beastly, fiery orb. A sultry sphere.\nThose of us who quickly burn and blister in the blanket of the sun's rays are particularly aware of its power. I, for one, don't only turn red in its wake, but rash and speckle as well. It's been diagnosed as an allergy.\nEventually, though, when the epidermal eruption subsides, I do end up a shade or two darker. It is then I realize what so many already seem to know -- it feels good to be tan. And no risk, no matter how evident, can change that measly fact. \nBottled self-tanning products have always been the skin-conscious alternative to the ultraviolet radiation method. Unfortunately, as those who have tried a self-tanner may know, it can sometimes be a splotchy compromise.\nBut that was before you could get it professionally painted on. \nNow, the same technology that allows us to put "Terry loves Amber 4-Ever" on a license plate can also perform a skin-bronzing miracle. Airbrush tanning, the art of spraying another human being smoothly and evenly with a self-tanning solution, is the latest revelation in sun alternatives.\nThe best part is, it's crazy enough to work.\nOver the break, I ventured over to the new Air Tan salon on Dunn Street to try it for myself. I arrived exfoliated and ready, but I still had the lingering fears that I might leave the place totally orange or the attendant would think I was some kind of leper because of the strange bumps the sun had already caused.\nLuckily, neither of these things happened. Johnna, the trusty technician who sprayed me, did not seem to be offended by my lousy skin, nor by the stray leg hairs that Nair had missed. And as I watched the air jet do its work, I could see that my complexion was becoming dark and consistent -- not orange. The only part of the experience I regretted was that my bathing suit was locked up in campus housing over the break, so Johnna had to see me in my dorky underwear. Sorry Johnna. \nWhen I left the salon, it was hard not to smile. There was no denying I was one brown babe. But you don't have to take my word for it. Other testimonials might include:\nMy sister: "Have you been going to the tanning bed?"\nMy boyfriend: "Damn, that tan's hot." My mother: "Well, it's really the best way with your allergies and all."\nSome guy at the gas station who emerged from the passenger side of a black SUV holding a 32 ounce bottle of Smirnoff Ice: "I'm sorry, I just had to say hi. So where are you heading? Do you need a man to go with you?"\nOne week later the color in my face had pretty much faded, but I still had discernible tan lines. Not bad for $20 and 30 minutes. I've never gotten those kinds of results from an equivalent trip to the tanning bed, no matter how many times I went. So not only did it save me money, it saved my skin.\nIf you're an avid tanner, you should say goodbye to the risks of melanoma and premature aging and give this method a try. If the folks at Air Tan can turn splotchy old me into a golden brown, they're likely to work wonders for you too. I don't know if Johnna could paint Tupac Shakur on a T-shirt, but she's still an airbrush artist to me.