As spring break approaches, people start running around in desperate attempts to get a tan before they leave Happy Valley to fry their bodies in the southern sunshine. Having never gone to a tanning salon, we decided to get some firsthand experience in the wonders of indoor sunshine.

So last Thursday, we took off to the land of "fake 'n bake."

Walking into the salon, we thought there would be a bunch of people running around in bathing suits and savage tans. We were prepared for a public, health club atmosphere with a lot of plants and tropical posters.

Instead, we were greeted by a lone attendant and the sounds of B103. An eerie, radioactive-like glow was coming from under the doors and we felt as if we were the only ones in the place.

We had to fill out a form releasing the salon from all responsibility. (Responsibility for what? Malignant bubbles and burned-out eye sockets?) The form asked some personal questions, such as what kind of medication we were on, and if we were married.

What does being married have to do with being tan? Maybe marriage increases certain health risks but we were pretty sure that skin cancer isn't one of them.

Some of the questions were relevant, such as "Have you ever been burned before?" and "Do you freckle easily?" but the attendant barely even glanced at our answers. What if we had answered yes? Would the attendant not have let us use the beds? Nothing was explained to us and we wondered what kinds of risks we were in for.

He sent us to separate little closet rooms with enormous coffin-like beds. Climbing into the bed, you feel sorry for any sun worshiper with claustrophobia. The lid closes over you by a side handle and you lie there with about four inches between the lights and your nose.

Then the lights go on -- wow! Even with closed eyes, you can see the brightness through the bug-like goggles that make everything green if you dare open your eyes.

For 20 minutes, you just lie there. A fan blows air over your body so it's not too hot and you can almost fall asleep to the radio (that's one of the things we were both afraid of -- falling asleep, the attendant forgetting about us and being fried).

When the lights shut off automatically, the first thing you do is sit up and look for tan lines, which, in our case, were very faint.

You feel sweaty afterward and the only thing you want to do is go home and jump in the shower. But even after showering, your skin still feels tight, and not quite clean. That's the best way to describe it. It's just not the same as lying out in natural sunlight.

To our disappointment, we didn't end up with St. Tropez tans. And one of us discovered that you can end up with a pink tinge from the first time in a tanning bed.

We all know tanning isn't good for you, but year after year we subject our bodies to vicious ultraviolet exposure. Even after doing research for this page on skin cancer and the depleting ozone layer, we are still planning to spend next week on the beach.

It's a societal standard that we all succumb to. Tan skin is sexier and prettier than winter white. We compare tan lines and feel washed out when our bronzed skin fades back to its normal hues. Despite the increasing health risks, many people spend their summers soaking up as many rays as they can and their winters trying to hang onto their summer tan by faking it.

Would we do it again? Maybe --if we had a special occasion coming up, like a formal, but we wouldn't go back just for the sake of being tan. Lying in a fluorescent coffin just doesn't compare to wiggling your toes on a sandy beach.