Last year my husband got me a spa certificate for my 40th birthday. Our local Spa is, according to their website, one of the top 10 spa destinations in the country. It sits on a natural mineral spring that was first discovered by Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto who thought he had found the Fountain of Youth. The Spa pumps the mineral springs from 3 pump stations into their resort to be used for the pools, the spa treatments, and for drinking.
I was intrigued as I have never entered the doors of a spa, much less a world-renowned one, but I was reluctant to go by myself. I waited a year before I was able to secure some company (read: people who could afford to go). My visiting family members, my aunt, my cousin, and my mother agreed to accompany me to the famous Spa. We picked out a package, and I made the reservations.
We arrived at the Spa half an hour before our first scheduled appointment. We paid and were directed through a door, to a woman behind a desk. She was tiny, dressed in designer clothes, and she had a sweater casually thrown over her shoulders. She looked at us as if we had wandered in by mistake.
Her: "May I help you?"
We refrained from bringing to her attention the fact we'd just entered from the payment station. Instead, we smiled and informed her we had appointments. She issued us locker keys and then pulled her sweater tighter on her shoulders.
Her: "We don't have any more robes."
We just looked at her. From the moment we'd entered this resort, we'd had been the minority when it came clothes. Meaning we had them on while everyone else was dressed in white floor-length spa robes. From the people walking the halls to the people enjoying a meal in the restaurant, everyone wore robes.
How was it possible that they'd run out of robes? Had they unintentionally gone over their max occupancy? We continued to stare at her. She continued to pull at her sweater.
My mother caved first in the standoff.
Connie: "So, are we supposed to walk around naked? My sister and I don't mind going nude, but why aren't there any robes?"
The woman pulled harder at her sweater, hoping, I think, that it would stretch over her head.
Her: "We have one robe."
It suddenly materialized, and my cousin took the robe. We took down the pamphlets about our treatments to read. There down the page was a warning about people with high blood pressure. My mother and I looked at each other.
Connie: "What does this mean? I have high blood pressure. Am I not suppose to do the herbal wrap?"
Her: "Oh, no, you shouldn't have picked that treatment. I'll have to get someone."
She sighed and looked at us as if wondering what hole we had crawled out of, and she disappeared and then reappeared with the woman who had signed us in.
That woman began to lecture us on picking the wrong treatment, but my cousin cut her off and suggested we trade time slots. She and her mother were scheduled for the aromatherapy bath, and my mother and I were scheduled for the dangerous fat girls with high blood pressure herbal wrap.
The sign-in lady agreed to this temporary solution while she searched for a manager.
Sign-in Lady: "In the meantime, go ahead into the locker room and get into your robes."
Us: "We don't have robes."
The sign-in lady looked at the other lady who pulled on her sweater and admitted they were out of robes. Sign-in lady sighed heavily, rolled her eyes, and disappeared. We stood and look at one another.
Her: "I do have two old robes."
She pulled out two robes that seem a bit frayed on the collars. We snatched them out of her hand.
Her: "Why don't you go on into the locker room, and someone will bring you the last robe."
She waved her hand at the door to our right.
We went into the locker room, where we met another attendant who immediately produced a robe. Interesting how robes were suddenly appearing. We changed, and she showed us around as she led us into the woman's waiting area. We sat on couches and snickered at each other.
Our names were finally called, and off we went to our designated treatments.
My mother and I went with our attendant, Judy, who was actually the best thing in the place. She led us into a room with a swimming pool in the middle. Around the room were six to seven bathtubs.
Judy assigned us to tubs, turned on the water, and let us sniff several aromas to chose. Then, she dumped them into our baths, creating millions of bubbles. We slid out of our robes and into our private baths.
My bath was tepid, so Judy added hot water. She put towels behind our heads and cold washcloths on our eyes. We were to relax, and if we chose, we could hop out and jump into the pool (76 degrees) to cool off.
I lay back in the tub and tried to relax. Judy turned off the hot water, but I could feel cold water pouring in. I thought this a strange treatment. Hot then cold. It got cold. I sat up, and the washcloth fell into the bubbles.
Judy was immediately at my side with a new one. I told her I was cold. She thought this strange, but then she noticed that cold water was pouring into my tub. She turned it off, but to put in hot, she had to pull my plug to drain the cold water.
Eventually, she got the tub water warm, and I settled back against the head towels. I couldn't relax. I tried, but the water was hot, and I started picturing my blood pressure (which was such a hot topic at this Spa) rising on the thermometer.
Just when I thought I was going to have to join my mother in the freezing swimming pool, the jets shut off. We left the bath area and joined our party back on the couches, where we compared notes.
My cousin had thought her treatment was fine. My aunt said hers had been lousy. She got cold within 10 minutes, and she wasn't sure there was any type of herbs in her wrap.
Marilyn: "It smelled like moldy dishrags," she said.
After munching on oranges and apples, we were led into the massage area. My masseuse was Sandy. Sandy's arms were as big as my pinky finger, and I wondered how she would massage with those things. The answer: with her thumbs.
Sandy loved using her thumbs and enjoyed working on feet. Sandy dug her thumbs into my back three times, circled her palms three times on my arm, massaged my hands, circled three times on my leg, and then sat down to do my foot.
She began rubbing her thumb up my big toe. She stroked and rubbed and rubbed. I wanted to scream, "For god sakes move to another toe!"
She did after about three minutes. She spent another three minutes rubbing that toe and worked her way down the digits, rubbing as if erasing something. Then she started all over again with the big toe. Eventually, she moved to the other foot, where she continued her torture.
After 20 minutes, she moved to my leg, three circles. She moved to my hand, then my arm and then she asked me to turn over on to my stomach. Finally!
I rolled over and prepared for a massage. Sandy dug her thumbs into my back. Circle, circle, circle. She slid her hand down my arm and then....then....then she WENT BACK TO MY FEET!
The same torture was applied once again to my feet. The woman spent 40 minutes of my 50-minute massage working on my feet. When she finished, she moved up to my head and passed gas. So help me, god, the woman farted at my head.
There was no apology or an "excuse me." She dug her thumbs into my spine several times, ended with a head rub that burned my scalp, patted me, and left the room.
I rejoined the gang back at the couches. Everyone else had enjoyed their massage. I smiled and said we would talk about mine later.
At some point in our treatments, a manager had apologized for the herbal wrap mistake, handed us all free gifts, and told us we could bathe twice if we wanted. Coming out of that massage, I was freezing and looking forward to jumping back into a hot tub. Our names were called.
Judy was gone, but we had Pit and Pat who did not dump enough aromas into our baths, and so we had few bubbles to cover our nakedness.
I was in the same tub as before, and once again, the water would not shut off. Pit, or Pat, worked on it and got it just right. For the first time that day, something was perfect. I settled back and relaxed. It lasted about 10 minutes before my cousin was poking me on the shoulder.
Maya: "I'm bored."
Connie: "Jump into the pool."
Marilyn: "Is this all we do?"
She climbed out of her tub and proceeded to investigate closets and drawers, a towel clutched to her breasts, her backside open to all of us. Pit and Pat were nowhere to be found.
We decided we'd had enough, dressed, and hightailed it out of there. The best thing about the whole excursion? The mineral spring water that we consumed in vast quantities throughout the day.
We discovered later that it certainly cleans out your system!
Perhaps that had been Sandy's problem.
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