Thai Massage

My good friend Limor offered to take me to get a Thai massage today and I reluctantly agreed. I love massages but I've never had a Thai one, and I admit to understanding them only in the context of young men in corrupt cities with thirteen year old prostitutes and "happy endings." But Limor told me the place was fantastic and very cheap. She drove us almost to downtown, and when we pulled into a parking lot in front of a divey-looking building, I felt nervous. Inside, all was serene and quiet and Asian spa-ish, and we were both led down a long hallway lined with silky curtains. My masseuse pushed curtain number four aside and whispered to me to take off all my clothes. She gave me what looked like pajama shorts to wear and stood outside the door, waiting for me to lie down on the floor, on top of a mat. Surprisingly comfortable, I settled in while she placed various towels and rolled up things around and under me, and when I turned my head to the side, she began pushing and rolling up my back. It hurt at first and then it stopped hurting, and I'm not sure how someone so small and quiet could work so magically, but I relaxed enough that I was almost asleep. Music played faintly and I could hear the soft murmurings of other massages, curtains away.

And so it went. I sat up at the end and she wrapped hot towels around me. I dressed and walked out of the little room to see Limor waiting for me.

"All my troubles are over," I whispered to her.

We paid the ridiculously low price of $40 each and walked out of the spa and across the street where we had a $6.00 lunch at the corner Thai restaurant. I had chicken with mint and tiny little egg rolls.

Happy endings, indeed.