La Massage

Rope.

A Garden Hose.

Duct Tape.

Vodka.

These are the things that Conner and I walked into the Fitness Center with for our messages. Nathalie had a customer when we arrived who was frightened when she saw us and left quickly. Conner and I locked ourselves in Nathalie’s room with our supplies. We planned on being there all afternoon.

The truth of the matter is that I’d already seen Nathalie earlier in the day when I used the duct tape to tape Emma in her room. Emma is British, believes in Krishna and was with a customer at the time … meaning that she was giving a message. As I ripped the duct tape off of the roll, Nathalie came flying out of her room, saw was I was doing and busted out laughing.

“I knew that is was you,” she said in her French accent. “Where’s Conner?”

“Getting rope,” I reply.

“Rope?” she asked. “For why”?

“You,” I explain continuing to tape Emma’s door shut.

She grabs her camera and takes a picture of the duct taped door.

Conner and I don’t just get massages. We orchestrate events. A lot of spontaneous planning takes place.

Actually the people who work here have come to expect such things of us. Sometimes other people help us, especially Jacob from Norway or Chuck from Palm Springs. On occasion Conner’s wife Hania participates. When members of the staff see us coming, they start laughing and shaking their heads.

Once after Conner and I had conducted a hostile takeover of the Managers Wine-and-Cheese party, Carlos was dispatched to see us. He tried his best to be serious as he explained that we were expected to act like normal guests.

“What do you mean” we asked?

“You have to have permission to do such things,” he firmly explained in his French Caribbean lilt.

So Conner obtained “Le Permit” from Chuck a long time guest of the place giving us permission to do, pretty much whatever we want.

Now Nathalie can be an evil bitch when she wants to … especially when waxing is involved ... as it was yesterday. She would rip. Then laugh. Rip! Then Laugh! Rip! Laugh!

So we tied her up.

Later in the afternoon I was sitting on my patio looking at these beautiful pictures that my best friend had sent me. Conner strolls over (Conner never rushes or even walks … he strolls) and explains that as the Captain of a boat he can perform weddings if he is three miles off shore.

“That’s good to know Conner,” I say. He is always surprising me with useful nuggets of information.

“OK then,” he says and leaves.

I go back to studying my pictures. Then Nathalie, who is on Face Book (you can do a search … just type in “evil” and her picture pops up!) decides to send me a lesson in spelling.

I hit the delete button.

Conner returns carrying rope.

“What you wanna do now” he asks.

Then Emma walks by.

“Hare Krishna,” I say.