In The Arms of Another: Mall Massage Chair and Me
My daughter and I walked around the shopping center to a point at which I finally announced, I was sick of shopping. Our quest for a comfortable seat ended at a pair of “Pay-As-You-Go” black vinyl massage chairs. “Can we try them?” Krista asked. “Why not? It’s only a dollar,” I said. As soon as Krista’s chair motor started up, she jumped up and out. “It feels like it’s trying to pinch my spine,” she exclaimed. “No, it’s just working out the kinks,” I purred. As she cautiously plunked back in her seat, the mechanism in my seat was luxuriously swirling the backs of my shoulders. I was starting to relax. Until the spin cycle started. “Mom, are you having a seizure?” “Nonononno,” I stammered, shimmying like I’ve never shimmied before. The chair was making me do unspeakable things. Things I definitely did not want to do--especially in public. My chair faced the entrance to a “Game Stop” store where numerous ma...