A Spa-taneous Adventure
By Sean McVeigh
As the loving and caring husband that I am, I got my wife spa passes for a fancy spa in New Jersey — highly recommended by those in the know. I am certainly not in the know. The closest thing to a spa I had ever experienced was the steam room at the YMCA. So when my wife asked if I wanted to go with her, I hesitated. But stepping out of your comfort zone every once in a while is supposed to be good for you, right? So, I agreed to give it a go.
SoJo Spa is in Edgewater, New Jersey, which, like most places in the tri-state area when traveling from Rockaway, wasn’t physically far but was still a pain in the ass to get to. Does a day trip to New Jersey count as a February break getaway? Depends on who you ask. Along the way, we managed to cross four different bridges and two tunnels — without even getting lost. Did we have to pay a congestion toll? Who the heck knows?
Upon arrival, the uninitiated are quickly met with culture shock. I was immediately informed this was a “shoe-free zone,” not unlike Rockaway in the summer. Now, I’m used to going barefoot, but it still felt strange to be in a public space without shoes. It didn’t help that for the rest of the day, aside from my bare feet, I was only wearing a robe and a bathing suit. Before you can even get your shoes off, however, they make sure to check your bag — TSA style — for any food or alcohol. No shoes and no alcohol, huh? Was this all an elaborate scheme by my wife to check me into a mental institution? Well played, Mrs. McVeigh.
After the initial shock and awe campaign in the lobby, things started to get more relaxing. The place was immaculate. I suppose that’s a prerequisite for a “shoe-free zone.” Despite all the people rotating through the saunas and pools, I never once saw anything that — to use a scientific term — skeeved me out.
Have you ever heard of Edgewater? I hadn’t. Turns out, it’s a cool little area named by some very literal people. It sits right on the edge of the water, offering incredible views of the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The spa’s multiple heated outdoor pools overlook the Hudson, making you feel like you’re somewhere far more exotic than New Jersey.
After some pool time, we explored the various saunas, which ranged from infrared to charcoal to red brick. They were great — except for one small issue: no seats. You had to lie on the floor. Now, I’m not a spa guy to begin with, but I’m definitely not a lay-on-the-floor guy. The whole thing reminded me of kindergarten nap time, with everyone awkwardly trying to find space between strangers. Let’s call this the “low point” of the day.
Fortunately, it was only up from there — literally. The spa’s top floor featured an infinity pool heated to a perfect temperature, where the freezing wind felt more like a refreshing breeze. I can’t even imagine what this place pays for electricity.
One of the perks of visiting a spa as a man? The men’s locker room was practically empty, unlike the women’s, which my wife said was just as crowded as the main facility. While the spa offered plenty of co-ed experiences, there were also men’s- and women’s-only areas connected to the locker rooms. And while my wife had to navigate another packed space, I had the men’s area almost entirely to myself. That last 45 minutes, soaking in the silence, was probably the most relaxed I felt all day.
Am I a spa guy now? Not exactly. But heated pools, saunas, and a guilt-free excuse to do nothing for a few hours — well, I could get used to that.
