I just got the worst massage of my life tonight by a blind guy. With like, a stick and stuff. I mean, he didn't use his seeing eye cane on me, but he might as well have. It hurt like a motherf*cker. You know how when you're driving down the freeway with someone who's going 90 and you ask them to slow down, so then they drop to like, 87? That's how he was. I'm not sure what kind of childhood he had so that "Ouch!" and "Gentler, please, no really, I mean, WAY gentler," are code for "Do the opposite." The whole experience was just so unsettling.
I'm especially disappointed since I was kinda psyched that he was blind when he came to get me from the "relaxation" room. (I'm sure he didn't share my sentiment.) I mean, I recently finished reading "The Brain That Changes Itself" and so I'm totally aware that when one part of the brain isn't functioning, other senses can take over to great results. I pictured like the blind, Thai Fabio of massage. Or something.
Instead, he pushed, kneaded, elbowed, pummeled, and any other tortuous technique you can think of, my back and neck. When it was over, he waited for me outside of the room and then like, ran me back to the dressing rooms. I suppose it's easy to get cavalier when he's holding on to me. I caught the receptionist's eye in the hallway. I shot her a look of "Holy hell, help!" She smiled. I felt so cheap.
So I sat in the steamroom for a little while, trying to sweat away the whole experience, until I really just wanted to go home and cry. I went to the reception area to pay. "How was it?" the receptionist asked me. "Umm, I don't know what to say," I answered, "it really hurt." She looked at me for a split second as if she knew PRECISELY what I was talking about, and then put on her staff hat. "Oh, you know, you should probably take a bath with epsom salts when you get home. That will release some of the lactic acid." At that point I reached across the counter and stabbed her eyes out. She apologized.
Just kidding. But I wanted to. I actually might have except that my blind masseuse pulled my lower back, if that's possible, and I was too sore to do anything but pay, with tip. I'm such a pansy.
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Follow up: I just called them, because my back is really sore, and they were like, "He has one of the best reputations in town." Umm, whatever.