Hands off my Power Crystal, Lady!

Old stuff...From the Taos Vacation last year.

After two days of I'm-not-as-young-as-I-used-to-be skiing, me and the brother decided that a one-hour massage at a mountain spa would be an excellent way to work out the soreness in our legs, and--with hope--walk normally again. Most every place that we called required an appointment save for one...so we chose that one.

My second thoughts began as I was perusing the Licensed Massage Therapists' bio's on the wall on the wall, while waiting for my masseuse to show up, which would be whomever was on the clock at the time. First off, my odds were about 1 in 5 that I'd get a dude...and I just don't like to roll the dice when the stakes are that high. I'd have ended up more tense than when I went in...especially if he was one of those soft-spoken long-haired hippies that Taos is full of. Before my anxiety attack consumed me, a cute, young hispanic/indian woman rounded the corner, and I knew I had a winner. Unlike the other options pictured on the wall, her full name was not "Whiteheart," she wore less than 2000 beads around her neck, she wore close-toed shoes, and not a stitch of hemp, and was one of only two women under 50.

Being my first massage, I didn't really know what to expect, nor did I mentally prepare myself for, "you can remove your clothes and get under the sheet, and I'll return shortly." I didn't know what I was expecting, but for whatever reason, I wasn't ready for that. Y'know, it's not that I'm shy about being naked around strange women...but...yes, yes I am...Yes I very much am.

So there's another heaping glob of anxiety and tension we have to work through...and we were progressing nicely, despite a few close calls on the thigh rubs. Then, almost at the end of the session, while I was laying face up, getting my scalp delicately massaged--and after ZERO conversational exchanges between that point and 'get naked'--I hear "is that your amethyst under there."

I get anxiety attacks when I feel like I'm not the most knowledgeable person in the room, and the people who know me best know that that only happens about 40 or 50 times a day. I certainly knew less about Eastern Medicine, or New Age, or reflexology than this woman. I had no idea what she meant by 'my amethyst.' Are you referring to the bump on the back of my head? My birthstone is a peridot. Is my "amethyst" showing? I started to look down and see if the sheet covering me was still doing it's job. With lots of incredible ideas about what a 'yes' might get me, I figured a 'no' would be safer. She made some vague comment like 'oh, ok' but I didn't hear her for all the 200 psi blood that was shooting through my head. Whatever. The issue seemed closed.

The massage was over in about 2 more minutes, and I was left and told to 'take my time getting up'. I took about 2 seconds. I wanted to get out of that place before Whiteheart was sent in to look at the amethyst that she had been told about. It was in my hurried frenzy to get dressed that I happened to catch a glimpse of something under the table. In the dimly lit room, it looked like some sort of rock. And upon further inspection it was, yes, an amythest. No, it was not mine. Some vindictive asshole put it there to ruin my massage.