Sushi Day

Yesterday I went to lunch with a friend I had not seen in a couple of months. Her mother has been ill and the friend had broken ribs and a wrist - and that's the short version. Life has treated her harshly for a while. She wanted to be pampered, and we wanted to visit. We decided to eat sushi, drink Saki, and then have a foot massage. The newspaper ad my friend had clipped showed two foot spa locations and clearly stated that they accepted walk-ins.

I enjoyed my rice bowl; she liked her noodles and loved her sushi. Happy with lunch, we drove to the spa location closest to the sushi place. It's in a little strip mall and is nondescript, nestled between a bagel shop and a nail spa. We stepped through the door into a serene, steamy, aromatic, Asian room. Soft oriental music played, and no one talked. We stood there, not wanting to intrude. One masseuse saw us, made eye contact, smiled, and said nothing. We stood. We looked at each other and probably shuffled our feet. Finally the smiling woman broke the spell with a hushed voice, "A point ment?" Us:"No appointment." Her slanted smile showed very large teeth. We waited. We waited longer. We waited and smiled. Friend and I looked at each other, questioning. Then a man tiptoed from behind a screen. "You come back. Thirty minute." My friend smiled and repeated, "Thirty minutes." Smiles, nods. We all smiled some more.

Back out in California and having no luck finding the gelato my friend craved, we ordered skinny decaf vanilla lattes at Starbucks.

At the foot spa thirty minutes later - Spa guy: "You have appointment? You come back thirty minute." Friend: "You already told us to come back in thirty minutes." Guy: "You come back thirty minute."

I have to stop here to say that on our second venture into Asia, we both noticed a handsome, chiseled, bare-chested masseur. Somehow his perfect bare chest came off as a too-obvious marketing ploy. Or added a touch of sleeze.

Determined, my friend suggested we try the other location. By that time I was not very sure I needed a foot massage, but I was enjoying time with my friend. And she really really wanted that foot massage. So we drove across town. We entered. Same moist, spicy fragrance. Similar music. Very quiet. Spa guy crept from behind a dark, carved screen and whispered, "You have appointment?" "No appointment," we whispered back. He gave us a look somewhere between pity and impatience. Condescending, maybe. And at the same time, obsequious. He whispered, "You make appointment, then you come back?" He offered a thin smile.

I suggested we go for a pedicure and ask for the deluxe treatment.

Tina: "Hi Flo, you want ped-cure?" Friend and I nod. "You pick color." Thanks Tina.