Who loves a good massage more than I do?
No one does.
The best ever came from Bruce… Bruce worked at the Four Seasons Wailea on
It wouldn’t occur to me to request a male therapist, but Bruce was the greatest. He looked like Mr. Clean from the commercials. He had quite a talent with his hands and with hot stones and melting cocoa butter.
The first time with Bruce was the best time with Bruce… because that was the time he put the little soft hot stones between my toes… soooo happy!
Subsequent times were great too, but he tended to focus more on the therapy of what needed fixing, not so much just feeling cozy.
I’m a cozy girl. I really wanted the toe treatment again, but it was not to be.
Bruce ended up retiring to somewhere like
Sadness.
Then there was Suzanne… Suzanne was from some foreign country and she was awfully wonderful too. She worked at the Four Seasons Lanai at
I figured, after Bruce, no one would fill the void.
But Suzanne changed all that and gave me renewed hope.
She had a few beautiful tricks of her own… the most memorable to me was when she had me sit up and she put two little rows of hot stones under the fitted sheet, so when I lay down, there was a glow of warmth on either side of my spine… delicious! She also remembered to put the little hot stones in between my toes, and they (and I) will never forget how splendid it felt!
I was looking forward to having another of Suzanne’s massages on my most recent trip to
I called the spa and inquired as to if she was still with them.
“Oh, I’m sorry… Suzanne moved to
“Did you want to request anyone else? Male or female?”
I just told them to book me with whoever was the best.
Who they booked me with was Conrad.
I was seated in the waiting area with a few others.
Promptly at 5:00pm, a door opened and a couple therapists trickled out to collect their clients.
But where was Conrad?
Like Ping the little yellow duck on the
He might have to work with the females, but he wasn’t going to come down the chute at the same time!
He greeted me and we fell in line behind the four pairs of clients and therapists in front of us.
All the other therapists were chatting good-naturedly with their clients.
Conrad followed suit with a smile and a “How’s your afternoon going?”
Out into the hall we all went… and then a quick right back through another door and another corridor.
It all seemed so un-glamorous and un-luxurious being filed in like eggs on a conveyor belt.
Conrad showed me where to put my things and then excused himself to let me prepare.
After I was situated, there came a light knock on the door and I cleared him for reentry.
Before he started the massage, he said, “Now, if the stones are too hot, just let me know… ‘course if they’re too hot for you, they’re probably too hot for my hands too…”
Question: Who is this massage about, Conrad? Me? Or you?
The client is always in charge. It’s all about the client.
I don’t care to hear about Conrad’s hands.
Where is Bruce? Where is Suzanne? And WHY am I here with Conrad?
With the first stone, I was alerted to the fact that Conrad likes his stones HOT.
I let him know they were a little too warm for me and he remedied this situation a few times by dunking them in ice water (I think this is what he was doing… it sounded like what he was doing).
When the stones reconnected with the skin on my back, they were cooler. Unfortunately, his hands felt cooler and wetter too.
I want very warm stones and very warm hands and oil to accompany them.
Am I asking too much? I don’t think so.
After he did this a few times, he seemed to lose interest in the cooling of the stones.
I decided to just bear the heat, as I preferred them being a little too hot to being a little too cold and wet.
What else about Conrad?
His nails needed clipping.
One of the cardinal rules of massage therapy is to keep your nails clipped down so there’s hardly any white showing at the tip… NOTHING should extend beyond the tip of your finger. If I can feel you have nails, they’re too long. Period.
Then, at one point, I could feel he had some sort of rough skin on his palm… a callous… a scab, perhaps… whatever it was, it was rough and it was touching my warm, soft, bare skin.
Another rule fallen by the wayside: Not once did he check in with me about the pressure, nor did he say prior to starting, “If at any time I go too deep or hit a sensitive spot, just let me know.”
He did not ask if the temperature in the room was comfortable to me, if I was too hot or too cold.
He did not ask if the music was to my liking or if the volume was acceptable.
P.S. – I hated the music… sounded kinda New-Agey-meets-tortured-souls-communing-by-a-towering-bonfire… there should always be a choice.
In addition, at one point, there were people talking in the next treatment room for about five minutes… I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher, but it was most UN-relaxing. I have never been in a spa and had to listen to the other humans… that’s why you’re going there… to get AWAY from the other humans.
I might come across as sounding awfully demanding here, but when someone is getting a massage from me, all of these issues are addressed.
In summation, if you’re coming to
Go get yourself a couple of chocolate martinis at the Lodge… they’re much better at warming you up and adjusting your attitude… at a fraction of the price.
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