See, this is why the world really needs Yelp.
I don't claim to be a massage connoisseur, but I've had a few dozen massages in town over a decade, some expensive & some not. I also have had numerous Turkish baths in Jordan and Israel (glorious but butt-ass naked in a communal room with other (I presume European) women who didn't seem to notice or care that we were all butt-ass naked). Finally, I've had two massages in India, one by an obese Russian woman who was a serious sadist and one by a meek-mannered woman who gave massages like my 3 year old daughter when she's pretending to mother me. So, this isn't my first rodeo.
I stopped here because my shoulder is killing me, and I thought a deep tissue massage might do the trick. I randomly saw this place from the street, and it looked alright. Because I'm a dumbass, I didn't check Yelp before going in. I thought it would be super cheap and good enough....
Here we go.
No one's at the front. I ring the bell. Someone comes from the back, looking frenzied and out of breath. I think, "ok, that's what I get for trying to walk into a massage place with no appointment." I ask her if they take walk-ins. Yes. Sweet.
1. She points me to the list of services, which is posted on the reception desk. Now, the list itself seems ok....Swedish massage of various durations; deep tissue massage of various durations; hair removal, I think? maybe I'm remembering wrong; and chair massage. The thing that's super weird about the list is it has "Man Only" handwritten in the lower right quadrant of the page. It's hard to determine whether that restriction is limited to one of the services or applies to all of them.
2. She makes me pay first.... Ok, I think, but how do I know how much to tip? I have no idea if this going to be a 15% kind of massage or a 25%-holy-shit-let's-spread-the-wealth kind of massage. I wager a guess and we move on.
3. I didn't think about it at the time for some reason (distracted by the Man Only sign?), but I realize during my massage that the place is not that cheap. $55 for 30 mins.
4. The lady hurriedly takes me back to the room. It looks ok - nothing particularly fancy, but clean. A-ok by me. Also, there's a sign that says "Professional Massage Only. No Any Special Service." A'ight. I've seen something like that before too.
5. She points to the table, tells me to undress, leaves. I don't ask questions because it always seems like I should know exactly what to do in this situation and also my earlier attempt to ask a question or two at the front desk was not all that successful. But I'm confused. The table has a few towels on it, with a disposable sheet of some sort of those on top. Then, folded on top of the disposable thing is a towel with the dimensions of an ordinary bath towel. I think, "hm, ok, no blanket but an ass cover. I can dig it." I undress, lie down, and cover my ass.
6. She comes in, still out of breath, and moves the ass cover over my calves. She plops the bottle of oil onto the towel and starts working my upper body. My ass and the rest of me are just, you know, hanging out. Lights are at full intensity. Massage is not deep tissue. There is no conversation about pressure; there is very little pressure.
And, at this point in the midst of a mediocre massage with my ass in the air, I find it hard to control my thoughts. I am not relaxing, instead I am making a plan to do some ethnographic research about folks working in salons, spas, & etc. I want to know what they are thinking whilst my objectively-unattractive ass is in the air? Do they even look at customers' asses? Do they despise everyone or only the really disgusting ones? Do they view their work as some sort of service to humanity? Are they just from a less puritanical part of the world and so think it's no big deal to massage naked strangers all day? Or is it that in their part of the world we are considered immodest, shameless, exhibitionist, and so it's no big deal that we're the ones who are naked? Or something else entirely? I really want to know. Periodically, I realize that the awkwardness and dare I say stress has caused me clench my hands into little balls. I try to pry my fingers from my palms.
7. She moves on to my legs and shifts the not-an-ass cover to my shoulders. There is no overly-formal-and-precise folding of the sheet to cover my butt crack. Oh no, she moves my legs apart. I'm thinking, "oh...she's not...oh my, well there we have it." Anyway, she does my legs/butt/feet, and then we are done.
8. She goes into the hallway to grab a hot towel from the machine. She leaves the door open. The machine is right there, so it's only 10 secs or so, but still my ass is like "whassssuppp" to anyone in the hallway.
So, yah, very long story short either this place is a phenomenally bad massage place or they were selling something I wasn't buying. read more
