This past father’s day I experienced a bit of an awkward day. True to form I almost posted about the days events on my social whore networking sites but thought sharing it here sounded much more appealing and might as well give you all a good laugh at my expense. A few weeks ago I decided to jump on what I thought was a pretty sweet Reader City (kinda like Groupon) deal for a 60mins massage for $20. Now as many of you know this is a steal compared to the usual $60-$150 you could spend but the catch? Come on, there is almost always something that’s too good to be true. The deal was being given by a college for the healing arts of massage therapy, etc. Now I’m not a hater on getting certain things done by an aspiring student but I will equally admit some things are just a little sketchier than others, am I right? What are your thoughts on this? I had a few mixed thoughts myself on all this but for the price, how could I go wrong? I would wind up at the least getting an intern who was ready to graduate so it couldn’t possibly be that horrid could it?
Boy was I wrong.
Lemme take you a step back with a brief rundown of my rub down history. For the most part I’ve had many excellent experiences all over including one of my all-time fav spas located right in the Carlsbad area here in San Diego and most my work done by an amazing gal who I love. But true to the variety being the spice (or the poison) of life I’m always open to trying new experiences, places, new deals and so on but like a lost puppy I somehow return back to what’s better and familiar and you tend to learn your lessons rather quickly once you been violated by a very nutty, tree hugging (sadly not cute) lesbian masseuse who beat’s you into pretzel submission while ogling on how flexible you are during her failed attempts at riding you like sea biscuit. ...One day I’m sure the nightmares will escape me.
Anyhow, this infamous healing college is located in the back ass BFE part of Carlsbad. I got a lil bit of a late start but thought I’d make it on time until I hit rush hour traffic on a Sunday. I placed a courtesy call to notify someone with my fashionably late excuse and from whatever english I could gather from the Asian woman who answered the phone, she was not terribly thrilled and eluded to the possibility of shorting me on my hour to maintain precise and strict time slots. She didn’t know at the time who she was dealing with but as most know, I don’t do thinly veiled threats. Anyways, the directions are all fucked, this place is buried in an industrial strip mall and I finally locate a little asian woman walking a dog who further gives me bad direction. Irritated, stressed and knotted up like a tug rope I finally get to this lil college cubicle a tad late. Most spa appointments are very adaptable to little blips; arriving a little late being one of them. Regardless the service is usually impeccable. You are treated from the get go on a very personal level, wonderfully taken care of and all attempts are given to try and help alleviate your stressors. I walked into this mini nightmare and wasn’t even greeted by the student who was due to play pretend masseuse. She notified me that they were probably gonna cut my time and I notified her in kind that there was no way in hell that was happening. 60mins now or ill cut you some slack and you can do 30/30 now and on another date. She realized quickly who was boss and walked me back to the lil non-relaxing space where I was expected to know what she wanted me to do; mind read, strip and de-stress… Umm yea right. And for the record let’s just say for the 30mins of time spent with this novice I could have easily rubbed on myself or against a hard wall and produced better results; it was awful. Why oh why did I take this deal, it was like I made a deal with the devil. I wish I would have taken my $20 bucks and went up the road to pitch in and get a real rubdown cause this was fuckin nonsense. After she left the room and I was about to get up (and partially buck naked I might add), much to my surprise and horror, in walks the little asian from earlier. Apparently she’s one of the head masseuse’s and trainers at this little school.
OH BOY… Go figure.
I was now a tad nervous as she proceeds to enlighten me that she will finish the last ½hr of my massage and I figure at this point I have nothing left to lose but my drawers. I lie back down and embrace for the potential smack down. Much to my surprise I was getting my bang for my buck. A real massage mixed in with some kick ass acupressure and sneaky finger poking. Ahhh, finally I was slipping back into a lil bit of peace. Calgon take me away.
She continued the massage with a few more oddities added to the mix to include an abdominal massage. Frankly I quite puzzled as to why this woman was trying to rumble up my insides from the outside but hoped for the best and laid still fighting through the soreness. By the end of my 30mins I could say I literally had the one of the worst, oddest and better massages of my life and further proof that you never know what life is gonna throw at you or try to stroke you with.
Any horror stories you’d like to share? Let’s hear it!
© 06/22/12 Renee Lopez
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