The Torture Chair

I had a coupon for a facial, massage, and 20 minutes at the oxygen bar at Solase Spa. The facial was great, other than the fact that she told me to never use Olay products on my face..the thing I've been using for 20 years.

After the facial they brought me down the hall.

What I didn't understand was that the massage was actually done by a machine.

"Would you like a dark room or a light room?" Tiffany, the blond receptionist asked.

"I don't understand," I replied, looking at two rooms exactly alike, each holding a machine that looked like a mix between a beetle and a space shuttle.

"One lets in light." she explained.

"Oh, I want to read while I'm getting the massage. I better take the room that lets in light."

"You won't be able to read," she said. "Everyone says they will, but no one is ever able to."

I was perplexed. What could she mean? "Well, you better give me the dark room then."

I climbed in and felt like an astronaut ready for take off. Let me explain what will happen to you if you ever go to the spa. You sit in a long black massage chair that clamps down on your legs, feet, and arms and squeezes them about as bad as getting your blood pressure taken. While in the belly of the beast, two knives come out from the back of the chair and stab you hundreds of times down your spine and into your buttocks. Did I mention that while your arms are clamped down the middle of the chair rises so your back is arching while getting stabbed. This must be so your scream can project better down the corridor of the spa. When you sink back down, your neck is extended to giraffe proportions while your toes are squeezed in a vice. When you have had an hour of this treatment, then they bring you over to the oxygen bar. Why? To revive you from death's grip. My idea of a relaxing day at the spa.