Yes, He Did His Research

I have recently finished reading John Burdett’s trilogy of crime novels starring Part-time Pimp/Full-time Buddhist, Detective Jitpleecheep. In addition to startling endings showcasing incredibly gruesome acts of retribution, each novel features a detailed description of a Traditional Thai Massage (2nd floor only – 3rd floor is no place for an honest Buddhist Cop.) Last night, in the interest of investigating Burdett’s literary integrity, Kevin and I, went to the store-front Thai Massage parlor across the street. No, we did NOT get Happy Endings, but I must confess that I was rather distracted wondering if it was on the menu and by the possibility that it might be happening in the room next door.

We were greeted warmly, albeit incoherently by two small women dressed in colorful pantaloons. They showed us up stairs to a pleasant room with two large flat tables, gave us each a cup of cool fruity tea, tossed two brown linen squares at us, made a few confusing gestures, and left. After some bewildered muttering, we settled in to our brown baggy pants and awaited their return.

The massage began pleasantly enough, with a warm towel placed over my feet and some gentle acupressure. Within minutes, Giny had climbed up onto the table and was crawling up the backs of my legs. She shoved her knees into the backs of my thighs and jammed her elbows deep into my lower back. I made a mental regarding potential treatment of kidney stones. She did a few handstands on my back, her body weight entirely disproportionate to her size, but she wasn’t going to take any crap from the knotty monsters that live beneath my shoulder blades. Digging in deep with her lethal elbows, I felt my muscles crunch and melt beneath the grinding pressure.

She turned me over and began manipulating my legs. Thai massage may not be suitable for the elderly, as I felt sure that had my diet been more calcium deficient, she surely would have snapped my femur, if not my entire pelvis. Sitting between my feet and grabbing onto my bended knees, she pulverized the backs of my thighs with her powerful feet. She kneaded and twisted the muscles around my knees until my legs felt like two doughy baguettes.

I was hoisted into a sitting position for some neck and shoulder abuse. Locking my hands behind my head, she thrust her knees into my back and contorted my spine with a series of stirring motions, bending me backwards over her thighs. Finally she released me back onto the mat, placed a warm towel over my eyes, and said “Thank You” as she left the room.

Thank Me??

Kevin sat up and looked at me with a somewhat dazed expression. Gingerly, we placed out tenderized bodies back into our clothes and went down stairs. A warm cup of tea awaited us.

“You have some sore tomorrow,” said Giny as she pointed to her shoulders.

“No, I will have some sore for three days.” Truly, I am surprised that my arms are turgid enough to even hold my hands above the keyboard.

I can’t wait to go back.