I spent some quality time with the ellipticals, and took a shower and met the massage therapist at the door in my towel. She was like, oh, are you Erika? (you book these things in advance so they have your name.) Yep. She asked if there was some specific reason I was coming in, and I was like oh, not really, though my neck oddly hurts from sleeping last night... so she's like, okay, sure. We'll look at that, girl who strains herself not by athletic exertion, but by laying on her ass...
And I think after that we were speaking completely different languages. I was pretty sure that when I first came in I indicated that this was my first time getting a massage there. She told me to put my towel on the hook, and lie down on the massage table, as she left the very lowly-, mood-lit room, furnished in pale wood and black and white pictures of pebbles, for me to ready myself. So I was like, okay, if everyone gets naked, no big deal. Up I went, after putting the towel on the hook. So she's like, ready? as she comes in, and is like "oh... go ahead and put
the top sheet over you..." and then slips out again. Oh, lovely. Wish you'd have told me there was a top sheet earlier, so I could avoid having this turn into a Seinfeld episode. Everything was so beige, and so dark, it was difficult do know that there were even sheets on the thing.I didn't care that much, really, was too looking forward to the massage to think about it much. But I couldn't relax as much as I'd have liked to, because the music selection was some new-agey Sting mix, which I had an impossible time finding restful. At one point I actually tried to make small talk, and I was like, oh, sounds like French Rap, as it seemed Sting had some Francophone rappers backing him up. I think the mix was kind of world-esque, and these dudes may have been North Africans or French-African. ...but I think she thought I said something having to do with "trap," as in the trapezius muscle, which apparently she was working on, because she starts going off about how people always call it the trapezoid, and how silly it is, but it's not worth correcting people... and I was extremely confused initially, but then didn't feel like pointing another weird mistake in my time there out.
So the massage, though somewhat disappointingly gentle and not as effective as I'd wished for, wasn't bad and finally came to an end, and she leaves and says it was nice to meet me. So I re-towel and leave, going back to my locker to dress quickly and head home for some dinner. I'm half-naked again and there she shows up, waving a ticket at me. Apparently you have to sign for the thing, but of course this wasn't mentioned to me - it was assumed that I'd know - so I sign, standing there, in my underwear, in the middle of the locker room as she hovers over me.
Now I can rationalize the occurrences by guessing that it's not as common to get people in for massages the first time, maybe it's mostly regulars who can afford to drop money on massages every week, but still, it's not that good of an excuse. They're going to get a newbie every once in a while, and we shouldn't all have to learn the hard way with our naked butts up in the air.
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