October 4 – “I have been exfoliated”

The Russellville hotel gets the nod as the best of all of our accommodations.  In fact it absolutely shattered all other opponents.  How?  Simple.  They served bacon at the free breakfast.  Hard to top bacon.

Well, we couldn’t stand it (Read here, I couldn’t stand it).  We were back in Arkansas.  There was just one thing left undone in this crazy state (If you don’t count finding a diamond), and to get it done we had to make a return trip to … Hot Springs.  We never got our foot and neck massage at the same bathhouse Babe Ruth went to.  It was only an hour and a half from Russellville, too.  How could we not …

We checked in and got our appointment time.  Three hours to kill.  Fortunately in was around lunchtime, so we had some food over at Granny’s Kitchen.  Best chicken fried steak I have had in years.  It was actually thicker than a piece of construction paper, and the meat filled in the whole breaded covering.  Nice.  Oh, and Granny had one of those big, four foot tall metal chickens.  I really wanted a picture, but Chris thought the couple sitting in front of the chicken might get offended.  I offered to include them in the shot, but she still said no. 

After lunch we bought a souvenir or two and headed to the parking garage to deposit them.  A random guy walked up to me while we were there.  He said he saw my fire department shirt and thought he could ask me for directions.  Funny thing was, I actually knew the answer.  Score one for the FD’s of the world.

We spent our final minutes of waiting time in rocking chairs on the porch of the visitors’ center (one of the old bathhouse buildings).  It was there that the “Official Presidential Big Brother Text Message” arrived.  Loudly.  Phones exploded with the emergency honking sound.  People all around us stopped what they were doing and checked their phone.  “Presidential Alert: THIS IS S TEST of the National Wireless Emergency Alert System.  No action is needed.”  So … no action needed.  Only a test.  With that information in hand, I rightfully and dutifully (and rather loudly) announced to the world around us, “No need to worry, ladies and gentlemen.  It was only a test.  Everything is fine.  Please go on about your business, resting assured that all is well.”  at least seven or eight others immediately responded with comments of their own.  Some received the message.  Others are apparently on a “Do not contact in case of emergency, let them flounder through it on their own” list (That would include Chris.  She didn’t get it).  My favorite response was from the old guy who proudly held up his flip phone and announced, “I didn’t get it.”  One of the Park Rangers then came outside and gently and quietly asked of anyone had received the text message.  She just wanted to assure us that it was only a test, and we had nothing to worry about.  Holding back my inner compulsion to explode with laughter when I made eye contact with the couple who had been sitting in the chairs behind us, I assured Ranger Rita that we had “everything under control out here.” 

So then it was on to the spa room for our foot/neck/head massage (weird combination, huh?).  The very nice receptionist pointed us to some steps and said, “People call that the stairway to heaven.”  I glanced at the stairs and quickly back at her.  “But,” I whispered in reply, “they lead … down.”  And down those eerie stairs we went, into a hot basement room.  How hot was it?  At risk of carrying the allusion too far, let me just say this.  The floors were heated.  That’s right heat emanating from beneath your very feet.  Now, I ask you, what image does that evoke? 

After being offered some ‘special spring water” (Yeah.  Sounds suspicious to you, too, doesn’t it?), and filling out some paperwork, we were led into a small locker room and issued sandals and a robe.  We were assured that everything was quite private “down here,” and we could take off or leave on whatever we wanted.  However, “you must leave all your jewelry and especially your cell phones in this locker.”  Sounded like a heist to me.  Or worse, they were removing all hope of contact with the “Upper Realms.”  Oh, sure, we were taught how to operate the locker combination, but would we ever be able to find our way back to this room?

Finally the actual massage people came and led us to a “treatment room” where we were instructed to remove our robe and “get comfortable” on the table.  It bothered my back some to have to lie flat, but with some slow, concentrated breathing, I managed.  So, feet first.  We heard, “If these are too hot, let us know.”  And instantly, hot wet towels encased us from toes to ankles.  Then the towels were removed and lotion applied.  Then the lotion was removed by vigorous scrubbing.  I have been exfoliated.  And before this date, I didn’t even know what that word meant (Still not sure).  But she didn’t stop there.  She actually did a pretty decent foot massage (not that I have anything to compare it with.  This was my first).  Chris’ massager (she was in training) followed pretty much the same procedure, except she forgot to do Chris’ right foot.  She is only half exfoliated. Not sure why, but I guess it meant she got a little longer neck attention.  And that neck part was interesting.  Several times she began at my neck in the front and slid around to a spot in the center of the back of my head.  Then she turned my head to each side and massaged the exposed neck there.  She did one of those tricks where you tap your head, then slowly slide your fingers down the sides of your head.  Feels like cracking a raw egg open and having the insides slide down.  Oh, and another time she was rubbing both sides of my head.  Felt really nice.  As did the ear massage.  Then, suddenly, with no change in the pressure on the sides, I felt pressure right in the center of my head as well.  So much for relaxing.  By that time I was convinced that the lady had a third arm that she only revealed at moments like this.  Perhaps that’s why she was confined to the depths of this cave.  Maybe that explains the temperature.  Creatures like her can’t survive at normal temps.  A little disconcerted now, I concentrated on my breathing techniques.  Slow and easy, long breaths.  That’s when I felt more that saw that he hands were hovering mere inches in front of my face.  She wasn’t moving them.  Ah, then I got the message.  She had dunked them in some kind of stinky substance that I was supposed to inhale.  That’s it.  She was waiting for the inhale.  I held out as long as I could, but finally had to oblige.  It did smell.  Not too bad, though.  And then it was over.  All done, just like that.

We were both a little shaky on our feet when they got done, but we redeemed our valuables and our contact with the outside world.  We made it to the car and pointed it in the general direction of … well, West.

Psalms 103:21 says, “Praise the Lord, all his heavenly hosts, you his servants who do his will.”

Father, thank you for the whole foot massage experience.  Strange, but actually rather pleasant.  Be with those massage ladies as they go about their day.  Oh, and maybe give them some time on the surface … Amen.