While in Chiang Mai, Heather suggested we get massages. Just within a short walk from our guesthouse, there were several massage parlors with their prices posted on large signs out front. You couldn’t beat the price – 180Baht for a one hour Thai-style massage, or the equivalent of two large bottles of Chang beer. That translates to under $6USD! For an hour. It would be unseemly not to partake of this relaxing Thai tradition. I thought of a petite Thai women gently massaging my back and shoulders, lulling me into a blissful state of consciousness. Yes, a massage would be a great idea. We walked the street and checked prices – pretty much all the same. Stopping at one parlor, we asked the proprietor if he could accommodate two of us at the same time. “Yes, sure, no problem. Just wait five minutes. Inside, sit, air conditioning very nice.” So we walked inside and had a seat, enjoying the cool temperature of the waiting room. Eventually, a young, stocky man ushered us into the next room, where he gently washed and dried our feet in preparation for our massage. Where are those petite women I wondered. He directed us upstairs where we passed a couple curtained alcoves where others were receiving their massages by young women. We were led to our own alcove and told to change into loose-fitting pants and shirts. Then the same guy from downstairs entered and asked me to roll onto my front. Wait! No, this is not what I imagined! A young woman also entered and instructed Heather to do the same. Couldn’t we swap? Is there some mistake? But before I could put my thoughts to words his hands were on me. Okay, he did have soft hands and was quite gentle while washing my feet. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. There was some gentle rubbing to loosen up the back but then the work began in earnest. He was up on the table, kneeling over me, pushing his hands, and then elbows, into my back. I imagined it was as if I was a pile of pie dough and he was attempting to roll out my body in order to fit the dimensions of the table. Then it was down to the legs. Again, the elbows were used to separate muscle from bone. He twisted my calf muscles as if they were the strings of an old mop, wringing every last drop of water from them. Finally, he performed the old figure-four leg lock, twisting my legs into a pretzel, apparently a move learned by watching Saturday night wrestling on TV. “Ugh, I don’t know how much more of this relaxation I can take” I thought to myself. I chanced a peek over to Heather who seemed to have achieved another level of consciousness. Her face was peaceful, eyes closed, a slight smile and her breathing slow and soft. Meanwhile I was grunting, having my breath forced out of my body while Killer Kowalski continued his assault. Eventually, he motioned for me to turn over, placed a pillow on his lap and put my head on it. He began gently massaging my scalp and forehead, then my neck. Now, this is what I was hoping for! Just as I began to really relax and melt into the pillow he pushed me up and grabbed both arms, pulling them back, seemingly attempting to remove them from my torso. Unsuccessful at first, he placed the soles of each foot onto my lower back to gain more leverage and continued his attempt at dismemberment. Eventually giving up, he ended the session with a final chopping motion along my back. As Heather sat up she opened her eyes and exclaimed “Wasn’t that amazing? I can’t wait to do this again!” I could only think that my time, and money, would be better spent drinking those two big beers instead.