We’re here in Jackson Hole, Wy. Isn’t it beautiful? Now that we have two kids in college, it is getting harder and harder to coordinate schedules for a family vacation. Living in South Carolina, frolicking in snow is a blast for us. While Superman and the kids blast down the slopes, Nanny, (Superman’s mom), and I slowly walk the town shopping and eating. One day, Superman really wanted to hike a couple of miles in the snow near Jenny Lake. Sounded fabulous until he suggested the girls have a spa day. Hmmm….I think a massage and facial sounds quite delightful.
Now don’t get me wrong, although I have had a few massages in some of the most beautiful 5 star spas, I’ve also had some in our local gym. The gym massage took place in some side room where the head honcho guys were having a meeting on the other side of the door. Nothing fancy, just a good therapeutic massage. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I do know that the treatment I had the other day here in Jackson was….how would I call it?….interesting.
Again…Superman was his awesome self in suggesting and scheduling our appointments! I was checking out the different options here around town with names like The Harmonic Spa, Body and Soul, Amangani Spa. The Four Seasons Resort and Spa didn’t sound too bad either. Superman had picked up a brochure from the front lobby.This probably should have been my first clue. What does a tipsy purple pig mean? I know I’m being judgmental, but sometimes the marketing can say a lot. But you know what? I was game! I’m always up for an adventure!
Superman drops Mary Claire, Nanny and me off at the sketchy strip mall storefront spa. It sits right next door to the fish and tackle store. So here we go. As we enter, we are asked to take off our boots. I get it…snow and all, but now we stand there in our socks on wet carpet.
As the sweet owner, Dana, greeted us, tall-grey headed Peter, one of the masseurs, walked out one of the rooms. The look on Nanny and Mary Claire’s faces was priceless. Ever seen a deer in headlights? Dana asked who of us would like to have a man-sized massage. (Is that anything like “Man-size Meatballs”- from the award-not-winning movie, Master of Disguise? Or is it done by “man hands” like the gal in Seinfeld?) I immediately said because those two were a little uncomfortable with a male therapist that I would gladly have old Peter. So off I go. No, I wasn’t uncomfortable with old Peter due to 1. I really don’t think any man would want to have anything to do with this. (No offense Superman, but I just don’t see anything pretty with cellulite, fat rolls and the ever lovely dry, scaly skin. Oh, don’t even get me started on my bunion feet!) 2. If old Peter were to try any sleazy moves, I was sure I could pull some P.M.S. (Pre-Medicated Syndrome moves. During my pre-medicated days, I was known to have my head spin on my shoulders in public, no less, and Superman would go into quick hiding behind the nearest candy shelf. Good times, oh yeah!) Anyway….
As I enter the “spa” room with Peter, Dana lets me know that she would be giving me my facial after the other two. Hence, I might have a 30 minute wait after my massage, so I could just make myself at ease, at rest, at home here in the room. Okie dokie! Ummm….I usually get into my birthday suit for a massage, so I looked around for a robe to throw on while I waited. (Yes, I get neckid for a massage. I think it’s better than the masseuse having to go around my granny panties. That can be more embarrassing, just saying’.) I asked sweet Dana if she had a robe I could put on so I wouldn’t be slipping and sliding around on the leather chair all greased up naked from the massage. Ewww… Nope, no robes. Okie Dokie.
I crawl under the sheets and Peter begins the massage. For the most part, it feels great. He rubbed out knots in my shoulders and back. Nice. I like.
Oh Brother, now it’s time for the legs. I’m thinking to myself…did I shave today? No. Oh well. Good luck, Peter! Hope you don’t draw blood. I did apologize for how dry my skin was. He asks, “Should I get an extra container of lotion?” I suggested a bucket.
Then he starts tickling my brain by shoving his fingers under my skull. I think I made some sort of whine indicating pain. He asked if I was ok. I answered that it was nothing that a good glass of wine couldn’t fix.
Peter: “What kind of wine do you like?” Me: “Red is good.”
Peter: “Do you like it in a long stemmed glass?” Me: “Actually, I’m not very sophisticated. A red Solo cup is good.”
Peter: “Oh we’re all sophisticated in our own ways.” Me: (okie dokie)
Peter: “Now, Just imagine that red Solo cup….” Me: (okie dokie..What I’m actually imagining is less pain)
Peter: “Just take yourself to the smooth red wine in the red Solo cup… Me: (just doing whatever I can do to not laugh)
As he moves from my frontal cortex to the rest of my head, I feel relaxed. HIs fingers do little circular movements all through my hair. I wonder how this will be done with my mother-in-law and her can-a-day hairspray addiction. Or my daughter’s really curly hair. Oh well…I’m feeling fine, they’ll figure it out.
Peter says good-bye. I get up to wait for my facial. I decided to just put my clothes back on, since I didn’t have a robe. As I try to pull myself together as best as I can, I run my fingers through my hair. OMG! I do believe old Peter used the rest of the bucket of lotion in my hair! It is dripping. Yes dripping. Ok…maybe not actually dripping, but my hair is in greasy strands. yuk. Thank goodness for the hat I wore over there.
As I pay for our outing, my credit card is rejected. Of course. I give her another one. We say our thanks.
It is time to go.
Nanny and Mary Claire had a wonderful massage and are able to walk down the street with decent looking hair..without a hat on.
Dana and the other masseuse were absolutely darling. I believe Dana is doing the best she can do as a business owner. Peter is a nice guy and gave a man-sized massage. My experience was ….interesting.
P.S. Superman received an email from my credit card company to let him know there was some suspicious activity being done at a spa in Jackson Hole. Uh, yes! That would be me!