Another trade show, another junket to Vegas and yet another mind-numbing three days of pretending to love my job. Yet here I was, in for three more days of meetings, presentations and handshakes, pitching the wares of my health insurance employer.
I went through the motions for the first two days and by the second night I was over it. I needed a break, something to take me away from the tedium of a job I'd been doing for too long. On top of it all, I'd left home after another fight with my wife, an argument over nothing, really, that had me flying off to Vegas in a funk.
Back in my room, the TV running an anonymous college football game, I sipped a beer, contemplating ways to rise above my down mood. I thought about calling the wife but wasn't sure that would help. Instead, I picked up the bedside phone and dialed the hotel concierge. It had been years since I'd had a massage, the last one being a his/hers massage at a Mexican beach resort, and the concierge was prompt in setting me up with an in-room rub down. Before the masseuse even arrived I felt a release of some of the tension that had been building in my body. I needed this.
When I opened the door I was taken aback by the masseuse standing in the entry, holding a standard massage table. It was a dude and not what I had expected. He could tell immediately that I was surprised, if not a bit shocked. Right away, he went into damage control. "Sorry man, I can see I'm not what you expected," he said.
"I guess not," I replied, trying not to sound too put off. "I did ask for a woman though...and obviously..."
"No, I get it. It's just that on such short notice, we didn't have anyone else available. I was gonna call up but figured I'd just come by and see if I could fill in."
I thought about if for a few seconds. I'd really been looking forward to this for the past hour and I figured it really didn't matter much what hands worked their magic on my muscle tension so I thought, what the hell. "Well, you're already here and I appreciate the prompt service so...come on in."
Johnny, my masseuse, was a fit guy, probably in his mid twenties, dressed in athletic shorts and a casual polo shirt emblazoned with the hotel logo. He set up the table next to the bed and asked me to change out of my clothes and come back in a towel draped over my waist. When I returned from the bathroom, I laid out prone on the sheet-covered table and fixed the towel over my midsection.
Johnny asked if I wanted any particular music and when I said I didn't have any preference, he tuned in some basic mysto-Eastern type stuff that I considered a typical wellness vibe. And then he started in on my shoulders.
Aside from asking what areas I wanted him to concentrate on, he said little for the next fifteen minutes and I zoned out with my eyes shut and mind quieted. Soon my body was entirely relaxed and I could feel the tension release from my shoulders and arms, then down in my back. He worked warm oil into my skin, alternately utilizing his fingers and the heels of his hands the massage the muscles of my upper body.
"I'm going to move down to your legs now, okay?" he asked after working his way down my back.
"Sure," I replied. "This feels great."
"Well good. Just let me know if you have any areas that need attention."
Johnny started in on my calves, first dripping warm oil along the length, then rubbing it gently in. "You've got great tone in you calves," he commented as he rubbed the oil in. "You look like a guy who keeps himself fit."
I thought for a second about my wife and wondered how long it had been since she complimented me on my efforts to keep in shape. I was always telling her how good she looked but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. At forty-five, I took pride in my fitness. "Thanks, I try," I replied.
