Deep tissue global advertising

 

A couple of months ago, I was on a much-needed vacation to Mexico. I had been wound pretty tight so I signed up for one of the hotel’s massages. La-di-dah, right?  Well, it was nice, really lovely, and it made me imagine how regularly transforming one’s body into jello might be a healthy thing for me to do.

  Anyway, about halfway through my hour, there came, I sensed, an awkward silence. It felt like I should say something. I mean, it’s sort of like being stuck with someone in an elevator for 20 floors, except that one of those people is completely naked (granted, with a towel draped over his butt) and the other person is dangerously (or wonderfully) close to rubbing someone’s private parts. These are intimate circumstances. Maybe someone should say something.

  I really did want to compliment her, though. Her hands were magical, the way they rubbed out the tension with the oil. Instead of just lying there like a lump, luxuriating in each ooh and ahh, I should make the effort to speak. How selfish and one-way of me. After a deep inhale, I re-entered the world of the social.

 I actually got a little chatty. To no avail, though. She hardly responded. I had forgotten completely that she didn’t speak English very well. Yes, she had greeted me when I entered the spa, directed me to the little room, and I had indeed heard her thick accent. How could I forget that? Albeit only for a moment. Well, for a moment, I assumed we spoke the same language because we had communicated; we covered territory, in fact, that I wouldn’t experience with any other person on the planet except my wife.

Some things are universal, I was reminded. The right touch, the right glance or the right idea translates everywhere, across borders and barriers. I mean, she spoke to me! And I was completely sold on her services.