A night at the hotel

This is going to be a long ramble. You've been warned.

As usual, your truly has been getting the star treatment at this nice hotel. I have especially taken a shine to the sweet thing at front desk in a suit; her sari clad sidekicks, all of them; - one must be generous, Gandhi and Jesus both said; the women I end up meeting on business; and the gang of 7 girls at the next table at dinner, which my colleague tauntingly pointed out were behind me, whereas she was squarely facing them. Sigh. Indian women are gorgeous.

You may remember some time ago I made some poor life choices at the fitness room of a hotel in Japan. I am not sure what my emotions are - sad, glad, disappointed - to report that I have not learned my lesson. You see I have been, as usual, upgraded to a suite, and mine has a Japanese-made "massage chair". I should of course have draped a sheet over it, knelt in front of it in propitiation, and possibly made a peace offering from the mini-bar. Hey, I am a pagan and proud of it. But no. I had to sit my ass in it.

I am doing this because I am too wiped out to be out meeting the hot young women of Mumbai one-on-one. Furthermore - you know what a movie buff I am, and what a pachydermal memory I have too - as I flipped channels, as is my wont, I saw on HBO, "Sudden Death" next.

Now anyone can separate the wheat from the chaff, but me, I know chaff from chaff. I immediately suspected this was a Jean Claude van Damme movie, but my addling brain was trying to challenge itself - perhaps, but just perhaps, it might be a Steven Segal movie. Oh the suspense.  I had no choice but to see if I still got it, and so here I am an hour later waiting for van Damme to do his split. The man has the creativity of quick-drying cement.

Anyway, I am in my massage chair, which is just as well because my colleague told me the spa charges $100 for an hour's worth of massage. Even though this magnificent Japanese-made has English controls and display, I swear it has a mind of its own. Maybe it is angry I did not profer said offering from the mini-bar.

I pressed some buttons, and what appear to be two bowling balls have emerged. The balls are apparently especially angry at my non-offering , and have proceeded to punish me on either side of my spine with the vigor of a Korean drum dancer- except it is more of a  Japanese (or Hawaiian or Mongolian) sumo grandmaster with a lot less finesse and a lot more rage. There were controls on strength of the masage, something called the "air massage" feature, "width adjustment" etc, but there seemed to be no difference to the pounding I got: either the Japanese engineers have a sadistic streak in them or The Chair is still angry that I did offer my soul to it.

After trying the "Whole Body", "Lumbago", "Neck and Shoulder" and "Executive" options - none with a happy ending, might I complain here - I ventured further - the manual options! I tried the "Leg and Bottom" feature, which did a good job pressing my calves, but not very much by way of kneading my butt, aching from the cycling machine earlier at the gym. Or it has a *very* strange idea of what "bottom" is, and I an only pity the wives and girlfriends of abovementioned Japanese engineers. I do not believe I need to explain further.

Thankfully, another thing that needs no explaination is a van Damme movie, so if you will allow me, I need to get back to the exciting finale. Maybe he'll do a split. In my movie, an angry Sumo wrestler will choose that very movement to give him a mighty whack right on his balls.