Pain

I took last week off from my column to celebrate the fifth anniversary of Trouble & Bass and boy was it fun. After the party was an afterparty (’til 9am), then I got drunk with DTL, went to see Pangaea play Dub War, and DJed with the almighty Bok Bok at the Scion event. It was amazing but by the time it was all done, I needed a massage. Badly.



I'm no stranger to high-end spa massages but this time I decided to try one of these cutty-looking Chinese spots there are so many of in NYC. They're all the same: dark inside, neon signs, scientific-looking posters of feet, and usually a video playing just in case you don't know what a massage looks like. They’re almost always open really late, which makes them seem extra sketch. I’ve always been afraid to pick the wrong one and have someone try to give me a rub with, um, "release." But I had knots in my back and no time to lay around for two hours with some hippie chick kneading aromatherapy oils into my butt so off I went.





Chinese massage is cheap and quick. A 10-minute massage is $10. A 20-minute massage is between $15 and $18. I was lead into a darkened room by a tiny, raccoon-like woman who asked me to take my top off, lay down, and bury my face in an airline neck pillow (hey, you get what you pay for). She touched my back and gasped. Sorry, Xao Li – all these nights bent over computers have turned me into a wizened ogre with a back full of knots.



All was chill for about 7 minutes – the Native American music was droning, I was starting to drool – then this lady went in. Suddenly, this became what I like to call a “health massage;” as in, it hurt like hell. One moment, a corner of her elbow was digging into a trough next to my shoulder blade, the next her thumbs of steel were separating muscle from skin. “No pain, no gain,” I repeated silently, while listening to a man in the next cubicle snoring then moaning.



Then, just like that, the alarm clock rang and we were done. It’s two hours later and it still feels like my back has been through war, although I bet I'll feel good tomorrow. Kinda feels like I worked out. In fact, if you are into boot camp-type stuff and "good" pain, you might enjoy the Chinese massage. Either way, join me in a few weeks on another gnarly, semi-naked adventure at NYC's historic Russian & Turkish baths.