So...here I am on my work trip lucky enough to stay at this amazing fancy hotel. A fancy hotel is AMAZING for about...three days. The throne bath. The beautiful stionary with gold embossed logos. The TV that swivels so you can watch in bed. The gazillion thread count robes and matching slippers - those two items alone the equivalent to paradise. The HUGE cozy bed with best sheets ever. The yummy food. Someone to tidy your room every day. The private patio overlooking the sea. And then after a while the lifestyle of living like Paris Hilton fades away - the sitting in the THRONE of a tub eating french fries, drinking Prosecco and watching American Idol all at once - and the craving to see a Duane Reade or 'real' people or go to a diner hits you and it's like...if I click my heels twice will you bring me back to reality? Please?
Part of living my three day fake Paris Hilton lifestyle involved a trip to the hotel spa. It sounds great but let me explain. The menu of spa services was INSANE in both what they had to offer and the price. I scanned the menu for the cheapest thing I could possibly afford to treat myself to and off I went.
The pedicure...here was the problem....
A.) WORK - I am on a business trip with a bunch of high end executives. I am not an executive. I happened to know that today was a "leisure activity day" for the executives which meant I was bound to run into many of them at the spa. Nothing is more creepy (no offense to these nice people) than sitting around half naked in robes and towels with your bosses and their bosses. It's like seeing your grade school teacher duck in to use the teacher's bathroom. Ewwwwww.
B.) MONEY - Another problem was while I would be paying for my fancy pedicure I happened to know that the executives had a spa package deal already paid for them on the company and if they SAW me down there in the spa..would they think I was trying to scam a free day at the spa? Yes I am uptight and nervous and always worried about things. The more I type this I realize I should have perhaps sprung for the 'chill the f*$ out massage' or the 'stop worrying so much about what other people think' foot rub. But those cost $360 for 110 minutes.
So I picked the pedicure. A price which in the end was too horrific to admit to and would require any future child of mine to apply for financial aid to college because of mom's pedicure 'back in the day'. So I get there. There is a fountain with water running and little hot black circle stones you rest your feet on while you are waiting. They offer you two kinds of hot tea. They ask you if you want to wait in the "relaxation" area before Mayuki is ready for me. And then eventually Mayuki pulls back a paper screen and I am encouraged to come inside the private pedicure room. The private pedicure room is ok not great. Sadly, it is me, Mayuki, another woman that works there and an ENORMOUS, unshowered, disheveled, overweight, wheezing and when I say wheezing I mean truly gasping for breath man with a HACKING COUGH - the kind someone with Emphysema has that is on their last leg. Ugh.
I did my best to relax. But despite the calming spa music and this lovely foot massage happening there was no hiding the fact that a giant man - literaly sounding like he was gasping for his last breath (oh and spitting mucus into a tissue) - it was impossible to relax.
All I kept thinking was:
-"oh my god this guy is going to die."
-"why is this man getting a pedicure anyway"
-"this is this man's last pedicure."
-"why are men allowed in this spa they should have private rooms for women."
-"i can't believe i'm paying this kind of money."
-"i can't believe i have to listen to this man about to die for 50 more minutes"
Had I known I'd be sitting next to Darth Vader and be forced to watch the poor woman assigned to him pick at his yellowed overgrown toenails...I kept telling myself not to look but I couldn't help myself...I wouldn't have signed up. Not only that but when it was over and I left more stressed than I came in, I tripped on the cement steps going back into the hotel and left a giant chip in my big toe red polish.