Things That Only Happen to Me: Story 1 of 1000

It is not my intention to get into my personal life on this blog, but for the matter that is this entry I must mention that the year anniversary of my relationship with my boyfriend was this past weekend. As an anniversary gift, he set me up at a spa he’d seen highlighted on a “best of NY” type of show. The gift was incredibly thoughtful, especially considering I’ve been a mess physically for the past month or so. I will not mention the name of this spa because I would not want to discourage anyone from visiting it as long as you’re okay with a couple of things that to me were entirely embarrassing. So, with no further adieu, here is the (incredibly long) story of my spa experience…

Upon entering the reception area I was immediately warm and fuzzy with smells of lavender and citrus. The foreign woman behind the counter (we’ll call her The Russian) greeted me in a way that relayed she’s a total bitch but trying extra hard to be welcoming. She guided me up a walk way set to resemble a wooden bridge, while piling slippers, towel, robe and disposable bathing suit onto my open arms as if preparing me for battle. By her guidance I was hurried through the locker room area (an open space, not a room) and didn’t understand what the rush was since it seemed I was the only one around. After leaving my belongings in a locker, I found a room with some sinks and mirrors, closed the door behind me and changed into the “bathing suit”. Its fabric reminded me of the caps worn when entering a medical facility. Clearly, it was not flattering to my shape.

I emerge from the changing room and find The Russian. After asking her where I’m supposed to go, she rambles off, “Go shower, then go to the coal sauna, then bath, then steam room and then the body scrub.” This was all in one breath and I lost her after “shower.” I just smiled and headed for the back area where the showers were hidden by a contorted wall of tile. As I stood there, about to turn the shower on, I suddenly wondered why I even needed to shower, I was about to go sweat in a sauna. So I stood there for a minute and then quickly shut it off, toweled off and placed my robe back on. Walking out to the open area, a small Asian lady met me by the sauna and stripped me of my robe in one quick movement. Standing there in the shitty makeshift bathing suit, I asked how long I was supposed to stay in the sauna. She instructed 5-10 minutes, then opened the midget-sized door to the stone cave and ushered me in.

The heat hit me immediately as I made my away across the cave to the back where I sat on a wooden bench. There was no one in there but me and so I breathed in deeply and told myself to relax. This works for about 2.56 minutes when I suddenly realize this place is HOT! I look at the ceiling, at the bench around me, at the floor. This is supposed to be soothing, I remind myself. But, in just a few more minutes I give up and exit the sauna, running into The Russian once more. She instructs that I can go into either pool, but that cold would be better for me and then leaves immediately. I touch the colder pool with my toe and instantly notice she forgot to categorize it as “ice pool.” F’ that! Into the warm pool I sink, accompanied by floating lemons on either side of me. I take a deep breath… And then start flicking lemons across the pool with my index finger. Within moments I’m bored and apparently not good at this relaxation thing.

I climb out of the pool and ask a small Asian woman if I can go to the body scrub and she tells me I must do the steam room first. With a sigh I head towards it. I nearly lose my breath as the door closes behind me and must remind myself this is not a Korean water torture method. I last 30 seconds and exit. I find the same woman once more and ask her, almost pleading, “Body scrub now?” She looks at me baffled, turns to another woman and speaks in a language I don’t understand. I’m sure they are telling each other what a worthless piece of crap I am and how they wish they could throw me out. But, they do it with smiles. I am directed to the back of the loft, winding beside walls of stone and bypass a woman lying on a bed, covered in towels and adorned with a cucumber face mask. That looks nice.

A wall of bamboo rods separates the woman from another area with two beds where I am directed by the Asian woman behind me. She directs me to the bed on the left and tells me to lie down. I take off my robe and begin to climb onto the bed when she tells me, “Take clothes off.” Huh? “Naked,” she clarifies. I’m not sure if she saw the gulp go down my throat, but I’m sure she heard it. She doesn’t realize she’s talking to someone who goes into a bathroom stall to change while in the women’s locker room. “Naked?” I repeat. She just looks at me. I slowly begin to strip, all the while coaxing myself into believing this is supposed to be an angelic experience.

Within moments of me lying down, she begins to throw buckets of hot-warm water over my body. Maybe she wasn’t “throwing” necessarily, but I was too busy staring at the tiled walls that were beginning to resemble the shower room of a women’s detention center. When I’m soaked she starts rubbing what feels like Brillo up and down my body. While completely uncomfortable, I count down the moments until she’s done. “Over,” she says. I jump up thinking she means the torture is over. “No, no. Over (she makes a hand movement) other side.” I try not to frown and flip over.

Now my mind wanders and I imagine that as I lay there some fictitious woman who I loath because of her perfect body type gasps at the sight of me and says “Lauren, you’re so brave to go commando like that.” As I look up at her I see that she is in a bathing suit. I try to cover myself up but clearly I have nothing to do that with except my hands. “Brave?” I question feebly. “Yeah, you didn’t take the bathing suit option.” As she walks away giggling to herself I would shout (straight out of a Seinfeld episode) “Option?! There was no option!”

I blink myself out of the nightmare and am fully relieved to find out that end of the massage which followed the scrub signals that we’re finished. I'm handed my suit (as if that were relevant anymore) and head to the shower where it all started. This time it’s actually useful. Fully cleansed and ready to depart, I wrap myself in only my robe and step out of the shower area where I see… men! Several of them! They are robed and moving around the loft, paired with women who I’m assuming are their girlfriends, wives or mistresses. Without looking anyone in the eye, I shuffle towards the locker area where a couple surrounds my locker. It’s immediately obvious to me that I’m the only single person in the establishment and fear an oncoming invitation to a threesome. (What is this place?!) Looping around the now coed locker area, I find a room all the way in the back that has a door and so I jump in and lock it behind me.

When I resurface the woman that tortured, err scrubbed me, finds me and ushers me to a bar area where she hands me warm lemon water and a plate of fruit. I’m allergic to fruit. I’m afraid to mention this. But, as a few moments pass, I see that she’s aware I’m not eating. I try to explain I’m allergic to fruit and she looks at the same woman she spoke with earlier about me. Smiles and takes the fruit away. Then she sticks around and it dawns on me she’s waiting for a tip. Only problem is I didn’t think of this ahead of time and so I only have $10 in cash on me. I roll up the money in a way that makes it hard to see what the roll consists of, hand it over to her and make a run for the exit.

At the reception area I press for the elevator and wait anxiously for its arrival. I was unaware that The Russian was behind me until she said, “Great surprise wasn’t it?” How incredibly ironic for her to ask. I smile and quickly jump into the elevator ramming the DOOR CLOSE button with my thumb.

My boyfriend meets me downstairs and immediately asks, “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been violated.” He’s distraught to think his gift may have turned out badly. I reassured him that his idea was a perfect one and it’s not his fault that I’m not comfortable being naked. Over Korean BBQ dinner I tell him the entire story and he’s in tears with laughter which causes me to laugh to the point of stomach pain. Not only does the experience make for an entertaining story, it will probably be the most memorable anniversary gift I’ll ever receive.