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Thursday, February 1, 2001
By SUSAN PHINNEY
To that feel-good arsenal of massages, wheat-grass cocktails, Asian herbal potions, exotic diets and exercise regimens, add the oxygen bar.
And inhaling this stuff will never impede your run for public office.
Oxygen bars have been used in Japan for about 40 years, says Jim Adams, owner of Seattle's first bar. Mexico, another country with clean air "challenges," introduced the concept about eight years ago, and now U.S. and Canadian residents are bellying up to the bars.
Adams has a friend in Alaska who opened an oxygen bar there a year ago. When Adams went north to check it out, he noticed customers were walking away with smiles on their faces. He was hooked.
His Seattle bar opened Nov. 15; a Tacoma Mall outlet opens Saturday.
Seattle's version sits on a balcony overhanging the Broadway Market's main floor -- four stools at a small bar and two mechanical massage chairs nearby. Users can study the crowds lining up for a film next door or observe shoppers below while they're plugged into an air supply -- scented or plain.
Deborah, a Capitol Hill resident who didn't want to give her last name, was taking a breather at the bar on a recent week night. When her session was over, she agreed to talk.
Deborah knew about oxygen bars, but had never tried one. She'd planned to see a movie, but was too late. "So I opted for oxygen instead. I did five minutes just to try it. It didn't seem too much of a gamble. It was kind of nice. I feel clear-headed. I was feeling kind of fuzzy all day."
Oxygen bars, like cosmetic companies, can't make medical claims. They run under laws that allow supplements without FDA approval. And Adams is careful not to promise any miracles. But he does say that in Japan, these bars are known as a hangover, stress, headache, depression and muscle tension remedy.
During its first 45 days of business, Seattle's bar attracted 1,800 male and female customers -- children to senior citizens, Adams says.
Instead of a communal mask, clients buy a reusable nose cannula for $2 -- a flexible plastic tube with an outlet for each nostril and a hose that attaches to the oxygen cannister.
Users buy oxygen in five, 10 and 15-minute increments for $1 per minute. They can select plain oxygen, or oxygen mixed with 17 different aromas -- herbal to coconut, for example. For an additional fee, they can lean back in a mechanical massage chair while breathing in through the nose and exhaling through the mouth.
Oxygen is supplied by two very quiet little devices that separate gases from ambient air to achieve 97 percent breathable oxygen. The earth's atmosphere contains only about 20 percent oxygen.
While the Seattle area doesn't have pollution problems as serious as Tokyo or Mexico City, it isn't squeaky clean. According to the American Lung Association's "State of the Air: 2000," this region received an "F" for having an average of nine "orange zone" days annually during a 1996-1998 rating period. Washington, D.C., by comparison, had 41 days, and the Riverside/San Bernardino, Calif., area had 138. Orange days are just one step below "red" days -- when the air is so polluted people are urged to stay indoors.
Dr. Bill Watts, a physician at Overlake Hospital Medical Center in Bellevue specializing in pulmonary and critical-care medicine, says he's only known of oxygen bars for the past couple of weeks.
Are they safe? "It's unlikely that minor increases in oxygen will harm the average person," he says, but high doses of oxygen for a prolonged period of time (greater than a week, for example) could cause damage.
It's also unlikely that inhaling oxygen for short periods is beneficial, Watts adds. He places it in the "passing fad" category.
It may be faddish but it only took JoJo Kalaw, an assistant nurse in West Seattle, one try to become an enthusiast. "It really works. You really feel it the first time," he raved after sampling four different aromas in 15 minutes. He says he'd like to see oxygen bars all over the city.
Will he use oxygen again? You bet. "It's cheap. It gave me a nice time."
After taking a good look at the whites of my eyes in a mirror (whites of the eyes are supposed to look better after breathing 97 percent oxygen), I was hooked up to a eucalyptus/gingko-scented oxygen mixture and told to breathe deeply.
That aroma seemed odorous, so seconds later I opted for something labeled "Nirvana," a more soothing lavender scent.
The vibrating chair was distracting and noisy. I kept forgetting to breath out through my mouth.
Five minutes later, my eyes still looked like a bad-contact-lens day, but I felt more relaxed. Was it the chair or the air?
A sealable bag was provided for my reusable cannula, and I left, grateful that I hadn't been spotted taking breathing lessons.
-- Susan Phinney
P-I reporter Susan Phinney can be reached at 206-448-8397 or susanphinney@seattle-pi.com.
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER
Adams credits Tokyo's smog for the invention -- a concept he found attractive as a business enterprise because he was looking for a product to sell that was "good for everybody." And fresh air is hard to fault.

JoJo Kalaw of West Seattle gets a kick from fresh air at The Oxygen Bar in Seattle's Broadway Market. "It really works. You really feel it the first time," the assistant nurse said.
Meryl Schenker/P-IBELLYING UP TO THE OXYGEN BAR

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