The first day of our cruise, we opted for the "Traveler's Special". Sounds good right? What better way to start our relaxing trip than a scalp, back and foot massage!?
We had some time to wander around the boat as we were leaving Port Canaveral before our massages started. We visited the art gallery, well, we walked by it actually. (Who the heck goes to an art gallery on a cruise ship?) Got a raffle ticket for an WAAAAY overpriced piece of art, and went on our merry way. We made it up to the spa to begin our 'treatment'.
Treatment, I hate that term. It sounds...just...dumb. Just something to make it sound professional, or legitimate I guess. Next time I put Vivi's lotion on after her bath I can yell at her, "Quit squirming so I can administer your TREATMENT!" I'm sure she'll suddenly understand and be still. A massage is not a treatment. Brushing my teeth is not a treatment. Painting my nails is not a treatment. I am not in a hospital, I don't want a treatment. I want a freakin' massage.
The massage starts benign enough. She focuses a lot of attention on my back and shoulders. It feels pretty good. The room is dark and playing that hippie music I like to listen to when I get a massage. I tell her to skip my scalp because we're going to dinner right after. I don't want to meet all our dinner friends for the first time with greasy hair. So she asks if it's okay to spend that time on my feet.
Awesome! Of course! Yay!
She keeps telling me throughout the massage that my shoulders and back are so tight, I should try and get a massage once a week, use some aromatic crap in my bathtub, yada, yada, yada. Meanwhile, I'm partially listening. Mostly just drooling on my towel though.
She then starts on this little part of the outside of my foot. You know, that little part. The outside bone where your pinky toe meets your foot. The outside of the ball of your foot. Right, there. She asks me if I know about reflexology. I mumble something to the effect of yes, and then...It starts.
She is gently rubbing the skin on the outside of my foot between her fingers. Right on that little bone. It feels like she's got two nerves pinched in that skin and they are rubbing together like they'll chirp like a cricket if she does it well enough. Gentle, rub, rub, rub. I don't feel relief or relaxation in my back (or my foot). I feel extreme anger....like, immediately. Flashes of red, and mean thoughts bombard my brain. But, I couldn't say anything.
It was like she was somehow tapping into the impulsive, angry part of my brain, all the while paralyzing my mouth. I know this sounds crazy. but I swear. It was one the most horrific, awful 8 minutes of my life. All I could think was, "Oh my God, this is so painful, why won't she stop? Just say something! Maybe I'll just turn around and hit her! No, I can't do that! Oh my gosh, this is TERRIBLE. MAKE IT STOP! You think I could knock her out with one swipe? Why is she doing this to me!? What country was she from? India, I think. Is this torture? Do they want something? What does India want with me? Just SAY SOMETHING and she'll stop. Why won't my mouth work? What is wrong with me!?"
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she stopped and the massage was over. She tried to sell me some crap and I just wanted the hell out of there. I couldn't look her in the eye. I was all a mess and I just needed to eat something.
It was weird, and anytime I saw her on the boat the rest of the week, I tried to avoid her like the plague.
TRUE STORY.
