Back pain. We've all had it. Some even go so far as to pay a chiropractor to align your spine for you when the wiser of us know that can all be done with your own hands and a sturdy chair.Last night, I decided it was time for my annual back massage to ease the pains my past as a semi-professional flying squirrel.
...But how could I not wonder, having strayed from the luscious saunas of the Burke Williams spas to a tiny place not all that far from Koreatown...what was I in for? What would be different aside from the bargain price (Note: The only difference the xtra $80 at BW seems to get you is Cucumber water. Yum. )
So I go in, get on the table, and cover myself with some sort of tiny asian towel. The music was just right. Mindless but skillful easy-listening, brassy stuff. Then the masseuse, who I was both pleased and sorry (mostly pleased) to see WAS NOT an androgenous 12 year old, but merely a nice Thai lady. And work my back she did, to the point where I've been humming that Billy Joel line "She is frequently kind and suddenly cruel" since. A full hour of actually therapy later and we were done, classiness prevailing once again (oh, by the way, I was supposed to get under the sheets, not just cover myself with the micro-towel. The moment I learned this was both embarrassing and liberating.)
The moral of the story: A bong rip before a back massage is nice, unless it's winter time...
Probably doesn't make sense...until you've looked down at the tiny sandaled foot of a Thai lady and had to worry about your nose running instead of the divine pleasure of getting your spine pushed on.
