One massage with happy ending, please

Almost two months ago, I wrote that Tim went with me to the mall near our HQ offices over lunchtime to pick up a quick gift. As we were leaving, we noticed a couple of massage chairs and kinda kicked ourselves for not seeing them sooner. “Next time” we agreed.

Well ok – it took two months, but we visited today, with the express purpose of using those chairs.

We walked in the mall, mid-conversation and … no chairs. Not a great start. We walked down the main hallway for a bit (past a shop selling Tiffany Sunglasses which I didn’t even know existed but will be researching shortly) and saw a “Mall Information” kiosk. After quick instructions on where the chairs had been moved to, we also were asked “so you like those things then?” and we had to fess up that we didn’t yet know that to be true and we’d get back with our report.

Herewith is said report: These chairs are freakin’ hysterical.

I dunno if I’m more relaxed now than I was prior to sitting down. I can’t say that any knots I may have had are gone. I don’t even know if I’ll notice an overall difference between pre-massage chair and post-massage chair. I can say that putting in our money at the same time in each chair was a genius (and lucky) move, ‘tho. Tim would be mid-sentence and then say “oh wow – quit grabbing” and I’d know exactly what he was feeling. I’d be describing dinner on Saturday and suddenly start laughing. In the first 5 minutes of the 15-minute session, we both said something like “yep – but a little to the left”. It’s not that we didn’t get that the chair didn’t hear us. It’s just that we’ve both done the massage thing so it’s second nature to try to advise the activity.
To a chair.
In the middle of a mall.
At Noon.
On a Tuesday.

What I also can say that it was a great abs workout because we were both laughing pretty hard at the sensations we were experiencing. The rollers would start at the shoulders and slowly work down the back and then sometimes move too far out and would inadvertently tickle my sides, or they’d move too far in and pinch a big bunch of skin (it was NOT “back-fat”, dammit) to the point where I’d have to shift. And then the “pounding” would start – like my own little mini-earthquakes. It was about then when I'd have to wipe my eyes from tears of laughter.

At one point, either Tim or I may have wondered out loud if we’d get a happy ending, and either Tim or I responded by pointing out that with the pain we’d experienced, perhaps the ending wouldn’t be so happy after all.

Or, yanno, maybe neither of us said that at all.

(I just know it wasn’t me, ‘tho.)

Anyway, best $5 I’ve spent in awhile. Recommendation? Yes, no question, without a doubt. Cheaper than a comedy club, no two-drink minimum, and a happy ending damn near guaranteed if you experience it with a friend.