Sino-American Relaxation Therapy AKA Park Spa

[AnimeFan]

I swear, I intended to go straight home tonight. Really, that was my plan. Then I did something dumb and walked cross town on 32nd street which, on a Friday night is so packed with hot young Korean girls it will make you weep. By the time I got to Sixth Avenue I had decided to turn right around and try this little KMP.

The sign by the door says, hilariously, "Sino-American Relaxation Therapy," and I laugh a little as enter this darkened single room in an office building where there is no shower, no TS, no walls. Three tiny "stalls" formed by curtains are, at best, a postmodern wink in the vague direction of privacy.

However, this is a new place, it's spotless, and they've made an effort to make it look sort of like some sort of candle-lit therapeutic spa. Note to all spa owners: horrible new age piano music does not get anyone in the right mood for anything but earmuffs. The George Winston crap piping in damned near made my ending deeply and profoundly unhappy.

However, a hot young girl induces forgiveness of a multitude of sins and I am greeted by "Christine" - a very pretty late 20's-ish Korean woman in a little black dress. Everything is whispered. There is no physical room for playfulness, but she's got a look in her eye that says more than a thousand words.

Impossible to test the waters much on a first visit when you can't speak above the level of a caterpillar's whisper, but the girl smiled plenty and took care of business. She also might have a little bit of speech impediment - her "R"s come out like "W"s, not "L"s per the stereotypical accent. One free bag of Hon Man herbal remedies to the monger who can get her to say "Rock and Roll" and prove me wrong.

Strangely, the massage seems symptomatic of attention deficit disorder - strong purposeful strokes fade into weird peppery little thumbprints...as things progress, she keeps dumping more and more and more oil on me until I wonder if she's giving a massage or making a mediocre salad.

As massage fades into handjob, she starts while I am face down, and pretty soon I have no choice but to turn over or risk putting a dent in the table. The basic service is rendered a little eerie by the code of silence we are required to obey in order to maintain the illusion that the exact same thing isn't happening five feet away to another guy who'll probably post his review tomorrow. Roaming was not resisted, but it just feels unlikely there is any more on the menu here.

Damages: $40 house for half an hour plus $40 tip.

Emerging into a misty evening I push through the packs of tourists and brave my way back down 32nd street, having temporarily managed to beat back the feverish need for the company of a pretty Korean girl with my visit to Park Spa.

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