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| - After three months of intense track and field training at the UNLV practice fields along with multiple gym sessions my feet had reached its breaking point. I scheduled my foot massage the day after the competition because I knew after the 400 meter race I was going to need it. When I arrived, I pulled out my phone and tried to show them my Groupon and explain about the two foot surgeries I had a few years ago but I was rushed to the back.
The room I entered was so dark except for a weird red light glowing. "Rox-anne! You don't have to put on the red light!" I hummed and giggled to myself. My eyes still adjusting from outside, I could barely see and felt around the room like Helen Keller, hoping to find the edge of the linen covered bench to lay on. The "masseuse" put my feet in a bucket and told me to lay back and disappeared. I laid uncomfortable for almost ten minutes. It was a round bucket. The kind my dad used to wash his 1979 Chrysler Cordoba with. Laying back, my body automatically wanted to push my legs forward but they were cramped in this bucket! I immediately got annoyed. I just laid there fuming, thinking about toddler toys. The one where kids try to fit the rectangle inside the square but it won't fit.That's how I felt. I just wished for a rectangular bucket to place my feet side by side each other. Finally the "masseuse" arrived and began massaging my legs with the hot stones. I was anticipating this foot massage. After all its a FOOTSPA right? You know that joke some guys tell when their making out with a girl and they slowly push her head down trying to give her the "hint"....well he kept teasing me, giving me this light foot massage and I kept flexing my feet like, "MORE!" and then he put my feet back down. What a damn tease! I thought about all the multiple meter runs I had ran, the grueling leg presses and lunges I endured. All taken away by a two minute man. After that he motioned for me lay down on my stomach. Without warning he lifted my shirt and unhooked my bra roughly. Whoa! I wanted to laugh because I knew people that would have made a scene, slapped his hand and barked, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" For the next 15 minutes I was literally a rag doll. I was kneaded like bread, groped like I was in the TSA line, rubbed like a Geenie on Oprah's 'my favorite things' episode, and my brain rattled like shaken baby syndrome. It felt good after a minute, but then it just felt abusive and silly like he was thinking, "This seems like it might feel good, so 'Ima' do it." My mind wandered to people who have major injuries. I could totally see someone coming in with a cane from a minor injury and leaving in a Stephen Hawking chair right after. Right as I thought that, I heard a lady next to me asking for her "masseuse" to slow down because she had a severe back injury. The "masseuse" didn't speak English and kept pushing on the lady. After speaking softly didn't work, I heard her say with authority in her voice, "I have a back injury could you please stop!?" at least three times before my "masseuse" intervened and translated what the lady said. I heard her "masseuse" say, "Oooooohhh! Ok!"
Finally this torture chamber was over! Thank God! I asked my "masseuse" about just getting a foot massage and he told me they don't do JUST feet. I felt hoodwinked and bamboozled. I gathered my things and felt my way back through the darkness and paid with my Groupon. I told the lady at the front desk how I wanted JUST a foot massage and she told me I'd have to ask for that in advance. I tried to tell her that in the beginning! My "masseuse" stood by waiting for a tip. Honestly I didn't want to tip him, but I did and I gave him a good one only because he had no clue. He thought he gave me the best service ever and to some people it would have been. This place just isn't for me. I prefer a little more communication, a lot more warning when it comes to undressing you, a little less rattling of my brain, and less intimidation standing by to make sure you tip.
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