I'd been walking all day through New York City with my friends Lorie and Dave. We'd gone to see the King Tut Exhibit - which was a great experience, minus the bus load of school kids on a field trip at the same time. Part of the exhibition included a 15 minute movie. I couldn't concentrate on the movie because the whole time I was thinking about the germs the sick kid behind me was spewing in my direction. He was sniffling, oozing, coughing. Really? Who sends their kid to school that sick? At one point, he sneezed so hard my hair literally blew from the back of my head to the front. Lorie and I looked at each other, through our 3D glasses, with equally disgusted faces.
Despite the expected "ick" factor, being in the city is thrilling enough for me to be willing to shove my germaphobia to the back seat and just accept the fact that I will touch railings covered in grime, schlep through sidewalks of occasional muck, splash in puddles of unknown goo, get yelled at by large cockroaches on the subway stairs and endure being crammed next to strangers who may or may not have deodorized in the last several days or weeks. That's why God made hand sanitizer. I can whip it out whenever a germ-induced panic attack comes on and instantly the smell of sweet sanitization calms me down and allows me to enjoy the rest of my journey.
After the exhibit, we went wandering through the city, walking for blocks, stopping at interesting bakeries, looking through racks of hats and cheap sunglasses, through China Town saying "no thank you!" to the thousands of offers for cheap DVD's, Rolex and Coach and over to Ground Zero.
I regained my excitement of being in the city and got back into the hustle and bustle. There's something about the energy there, walking with hundreds of strangers at a fast pace, moving with the masses with those huge buildings looming over you. Everything is busy, exciting, new and interesting. Nothing like it! Just when I got the spring back in my step, a bird shit on my head.
Lorie and Dave found this falling-down funny. I stood in shock for a moment. Staring up, trying to convince myself it was a rogue rain drop. Maybe an old lady tossing mop water from the 10th floor? Leaky pipe? "Anything, please, anything but bird doo!" What was I going to do!? Home was several hours away. There's not exactly any bathrooms handy to "freshen up". I didn't even have a mirror, so I had to "feel" out the situation, which made me queasy. Staring straight ahead, trying to feel the damage, all the while watching Lorie cross her legs and bend over, in an apparent attempt to not wet herself from the uncontrollable laughter. The silent laughter - you know - when someones mouth is open and they're eyes are scrunched and they look like they're in agony but really, they're just dying of laughter. Eventually she was able to breathe, compose herself and come to my aid. She used a napkin to help me get the crap out of my hair. I squeezed hand sanitizer on the whole area. For the rest of the day I looked like "Something About Mary".
Moving along in true New York style, we headed to the South Seaport. Along the way, Lorie and I spotted a sidewalk sign; "10 Minute Massage $12!" I swear there were beams of heavenly light breaking through the clouds and lighting up that sign - with harp music playing in the background. Our backs ached, our feet ached and a quick chair massage was just what we needed to keep movin' and head into Little Italy later for dinner. We dashed up the stairs and through beautiful glass doors. So far so good - didn't look seedy at all. When a petite, well-dressed Chinese Lady greeted us we asked for the $12 special we saw posted on the sidewalk. She walked us into a beautiful, serene, relaxing room that had dim lighting, candles burning, soft music playing and two massage tables just ready for us. We took off our shoes and layed face-down on the table, each exhaling a big sigh of relief. This was going to be wonderful.
Two ladies came in and we said our hellos. They each asked us if we wanted it to be gentle or hard; to which I replied, "A little hard is fine." Mistake #1, Never say HARD to an Oriental Masseuse. The next thing I knew, my masseuse climbed up on my back like a wild animal and started clawing. I let out a laugh - I think I really wanted to cry, but it came out as laughter.
Mistake #2 Never laugh at an Oriental Massage. Each uncontrollable laugh only made her dig into my neck harder. I kept wheezing out "I changed my mind! I changed my mind! Gentle please!", but she either didn't understand English or my weak cries were lost in between the laughing. It hurt so bad! I don't know why I didn't just throw her off my back - but I kept thinking she'd stop and that was just the bad part, it'll get better. It didn't. She was squeezing my neck so hard at some points I saw stars and thought for sure I was going to pass out! All the while I kept hearing Lorie saying things like, "Oh that's wonderful, oh thank you." because her Chinese Lady was an adorable Grandma who probably had the hands of an angel. I'd hear her say to Lorie, "Is that ok? Too hard?", to which Lorie would reply "Oh no, that's heavenly thank you!". For every moan of pleasure from Lorie there was an echo wheeze of me losing my breath as my Chinese Lady's knees dug into my spine and her claws ripped at the base of my neck.
I tried to think of anything, ANYTHING that would make me stop laughing, but the whole experience was like an episode out of Saturday Night Live, and despite the agony, I could not - stop - laughing. Between the hysterical laughing and the pressure of her on my back, it was all I could do not to pee right there on the table.
Ten minutes seemed like eternity. I pictured the ambulance ride to the hospital I was sure to need when this was over - after she induced a clot in the back of my neck or ripped some sort of major vein. I just started to pray "Please God, don't let it end like this with bird shit on my head, peed pants and a Chinese lady on my back in some New York City Massage Parlor!" That would NOT be a happy ending.
