They tried to bamboozle me because the two 'diamond level' machines were being used by slow newcomers who were getting a charming tutorial on tanning. The crafty one that works there claimed that as you get browner that you can use the crappier machines! They walked me to the very back past rooms 1-10 to... I don't know room 101 from Orwell's 1984. I kid you not - way back there. The thing looked like it should have been on the lawn of Fred Sanford. The only thing between the bulbs and you in this stand up hunk of shytt was metal bars. It was like a chicken coup and a ghetto rotisserie had merged into one product. I walked by to the front and waited for my proper cancer machine to be free.
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