When I win the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes I am going to have a standing appointment with my massage therapist. Heck, maybe I'll just hire her and have her on staff. That would be the ultimate luxury for me. One of my gifts from Dennis for our anniversary is a massage appointment, but Diane, the lady I usually go to, is booked till Friday. I can hardly wait.
When we first moved to Tulsa I saw signs on bus stop benches all over town for a massage at a really good price. It almost seemed like too good a price, but not knowing the market here, and being anxious to have a relaxing massage after working at rehabbing our house and then moving, I decided to treat myself.
When I mentioned it to Robyn, my daughter-in-law, her eyebrows shot up. "I don't think that's really the place you want to go," she said. She always thinks I'm naïve about things. Like I don't know my way around the big, bad world. Huh! I haven't been around this long for nothing. Besides, what I do know is saving money, so I called the number on the bus stop bench. I didn't have to wait too long for the appointment and they gave me directions
The first time I had a massage was when Dennis went to a convention in Anaheim, California as President of the Oklahoma Commercial Realtors and I got to go along. There was an expense account and the hotel had a massage therapist, and bingo! I was hooked. But they are kind of expensive and the only other times I had gotten massages they were gifts when we lived in St. Louis. However, each time I've gone it had been in a spa-like setting.
The Bus Bench massage location didn't seem too spa-like when I pulled into the parking lot. It was in an older area of town in a strip shopping center. "Well, this is one reason the prices are low," I told myself. It did seem a little odd that when I got to the door it was locked. I had to ring a bell, then someone came and let me in and verified I had an appointment before they unlocked the door, though it didn't seem too busy there for the middle of the afternoon. I was glad I was going to give them some business. In this economy we all have to work together. There were no other women waiting with me and I felt bad that they didn't have more customers. It didn't seem too spa-like inside either, though. The waiting area was small, the industrial grade blue carpet was dirty. I hoped they would be able to replace that as soon as their business built up more.
Two men were in a glassed-in office smoking cigars. I was glad for the glass. Cigar smoke would certainly not contribute to a spa atmosphere. They stared at me for a moment, like they had never seen a little (stop smirking!) old grandma coming for a massage. Then went back to smoking their cigars. No wonder things were slow, I thought. They didn't seem to know how to treat a paying customer, and they didn't even look like spa employees should look, either. No wonder this place didn't seem too prosperous. Someone really needed to take it in hand and make it more welcoming. Maybe they were the owners. They needed to quit smoking cigars and get down to business!
The massage therapist came to get me. She was wearing tiny shorts and a t-shirt. I decided I would try to tip her well so she could afford to buy some scrubs like in the big spa massage locations. Her massage room was similar to those I had been in before, a little darker, perhaps, but maybe the candles were the aroma-therapy kind. I began chatting with the young lady, as I am wont to do. She told me she only makes the tips people gave her, the whole massage fee goes to the owners. That made me worry about her because she really wasn't very good at the massage. I considered giving those owners a piece of my mind when I went out, but they were kind of scary looking so I decided against that. My time was up but before I paid her she asked me if I would like to take a shower. I don't think that has ever been offered anywhere before. I actually felt like I needed one but declined to take it there and hurried home to my own shower. Things had just seemed strange. But, what did I know? I have to admit---but not to Robyn!---that I'm really not too experienced at these things.
When you move to a new location it takes awhile to learn your way around and recognize streets and businesses so imagine how exciting it was when we were watching the news a few weeks later and I recognized a picture of my Bus Bench massage parlor in the news promo. "Oh, look," I said to Dennis "my massage parlor is TV". Then, the news story: You'll never guess! I was apparently the only woman who had paid for a legitimate massage at that location as long as they had been open. It was busted, along with several others, for being the "Other Kind" of massage parlor.
I didn't call Robyn to tell her to watch the news.
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