The Hook Of Tranquility

When I went for my massage (which had been scheduled, rescheduled, rescheduled again, rescheduled with a different masseuse, cancelled with a female and rescheduled with a male, cancelled and rescheduled again to a female, cancelled because I hadn't shaved again, and finally rescheduled and KEPT!) I discovered there is a Tranquility Room. I discovered this well-kept secret by my mystical talent of unearthing all things beneficial to me, and also 'cuz they asked me in the lobby, "Would you like to wait in the Tranquility Room?" I'd have to be a fool to say no, right? That's like walking around Sam's Club and saying no to all the samples.

I was hesitant at first, wondering if that's where all the OTHER clients were, and would it be awkward? Would they all know each other like at the salons that I never visit more than once? What if it's someone's birthday and they're having a celebration in the Tranquility Room? Should I have brought a gift for this imaginary birthday person to their imaginary party in the Tranquility Room? The only unexpected emergency provisions I carry around with me include tampons and an eyeglass repair kit. Right now I'm starting to think it should be called the Anxiety Room because I'm petrified of exactly how unprepared I am for what could be going on in there. 

Even with the thought that these receptionists are leading me to my own Carrie bucket of pig blood horror, I hold my head high (and hope the birthday person has a pair of poorly made glasses) as I call their bluff and head to the Tranquility Room.

It is a room. It is tranquil. It is low lights, soft music, various flavors of tea. I wait for that heavenly or even holistic calmness I imagine I should feel. I try to figure out what I'm supposed to do now. Is the room supposed to make me tranquil? Did it already happen? Am I supposed to do something? Do I have to drink the tea to be tranquil? Is it rude to ask for a Diet Coke instead? If it's truly tranquil, shouldn't there be incense and marijuana lying around? I sit and wait, but I don't think any tranquility is rubbing off on me yet. I close my eyes, but I still feel wide awake and now ridiculous. I've decided the Tranquility Room is nothing different than the lobby, they just added tea bags and apparently don't use lightbulbs.

I did, however, become quite tranquil during my massage, which then made me realize the original tranquility offered in the Tranquility Room was a ruse. I didn't know how to be tranquil until suddenly I WAS tranquil. That in itself was distressing. It was right up there with the memory every woman has of her first big O and how it had absolutely NOTHING to do w/the first time having sex. Or the second. Or the 15th. As I was back then, I was also now feeling incredibly unable to trust. How can I believe they have the best interest of my inner Chi at heart? And now my heart was heavy at the thought of all that tranquility gone, dissipated, literally sapped from my inner and emotional being, leaving me with skepticism and miserably painful trapezius muscles.

And then it hit me: This is what they wanted all along. They're trying to make me a massage junkie. The first one was fantastic. The second one was great, but now the high is already wearing off and I feel the NEED to go back for another. It WAS all a ruse, and now I'm hooked. I realize I can't break this habit, not just yet, not while I haven't experienced a man masseuse and not while I haven't tried the hot stone therapy (and also not as long as I'm still in my monthly contract with them that I was so easily talked into after the first one).

Ah, massage.....how wickedly you deceived me. But I'll be back. I may not be tranquil, but I'll be back.