For those of you who have known me for a while, you'll realize I am very light-hearted(unless its a debate with Shoup about draft prospects)easy going, and like to have fun at my own expense. I have told you the “Capri-Pants" story, some old spring break tales, and even once proclaimed Eric Dane to be a good looking guy when discussing dudes with DCO(before you go thinking anything funny, it was a conversation about Kirk Cousins).
So, I got another one for ya'll. This is my disclaimer: This Has Nothing To Do With The Redskins, so feel free to quite reading now.
Long story very, very short - I fuk'ed up this weekend. I was supposed to be in Vegas, enjoying a weekend of drinking, gambling and fine dining with my wife at the MGM Grand. We were going to hit up some clubs, eat at my favorite restaurant Tau, and do some sightseeing, so you can imaging my wife's disappointment when my trip got cancelled last minute(don't ask). I was up against a rock and a hard place. I needed a plan, and I needed it fast.
Somehow, instead of the six hour flight to Vegas, I ended up taking a one hour drive to Norwich CT, to a place called the Spa at Norwich Inn(ok...........don't judge me).
Yeah, it was my first trip to a day spa, and my first ever massage that I didn't have to park in the back of a run-down building, knock on a locked door, only to have a small Asian women look out a peep hole and ask, “are you a cop"?
So my Saturday started with a trip to a CT winery. I've never been to one of these either, so I basically was flying blind. The first(of many)thing I did wrong was wear a pair of shit-kickers with a plaid flannel shirt. When we walked in, it felt like that scene from Animal House, where Otter and the boys walked into the all-black club to see Otis Day and the Nights. The entire place stopped and stared when we entered. Even the wife was mortified. Then I committed to social fopas. First, I helped my self to some goodies sitting on a table. I just assumed they were there for everyone to eat, so I ate a piece of cheese and a cracker. The cheese tasted like shit, so I spit it into a napkin, and mention to the wife how bad it was. All of a sudden a bunch of people with wine glasses approached us, and informed me that this was their spread, and it was not for the public. I apologized and headed to the bar area for our wine sampling.
I should have just ended it at the freaking cheese table, but no, I had to go on. I completely fuk'ed up the order of tasting. I decided I was only going to do reds(mind you, I know nothing about wine etiquette), so I began dring the glass she put in front of me. I noticed other people swirling the glass, so I figured it was the cool thing to do, but I ended up spilling wine all over the place. After my second glass, I got it under control, and felt like a pro. After my fifth tasting, I decided to go to whites. Apparently, this was frowned upon in this establishment. The lady informed my that you are supoosed to go from white to red, and that "it was not appropriate for my pallet" to go in reverse. She simply glared, and made me eat a handful of oyster crackers before she served me. Needless to say, both the wife and I ended up drunk after the round of whites, and 3 more glasses of our favorite. My wife became loud and obnoxious, we got many dirty looks, and were finally asked to leave.
Off to the Spa.......................
upon arrival, I had a gentlemen come park my car. He seemed very annoyed that I did not tip him for his services. We went to dinner. We had to have a reservation, yet there were only three other couples in the place. Now, I'm 6'3", 215, and I like to eat, so you can imagine my disappointment when our food was brought out. The meal was more about presentation than quantity, and I left the restaurant even more hungry than when I arrived.
Off to the Casino.................
I'll keep this one short and sweet. When I was in grade school, I got into a few fights. I lost one or two here and there, and distinctly remember taking a pretty bad beating in one of them, but nothing compared to the ass-kicking I got playing 3-card poker. I sat down with $200, and literally 15 minutes later, I was cleaned out by a very small man named Hong. I left the table cursing. I told my wife if that ever happens again, to instead blindfold me, spin me in circles for 60 seconds, hit me in the face with a baseball bat, kick me in the nuts, and take my $200.
Finally, things got better Sunday morning.
All I had seen at the hotel since I arrived were people walking around in white robes. I couldn't wait to get my white robe. As soon as breakfast ended, I went and put on my white robe, and headed down to the Spa.
Well, it wasn't quite what I expected. First, it was swamped with group after group of middle-age women drinking Mimosas. I went into a “relaxation room" where I got to lay on a chair for one hour without speaking, while tranquil music played quietly in the background. I did end up saying something nasty to Shoup on a HogsHaven post, so I guess it wasn't all that bad.
Then came the fun.
The men's locker room was like a palace. It had a sauna, steam room, hot tub, mahogany lockers, showers, and shitters with those little fountains that splash your ass with water. It was great! I didn't want to leave. I met a few older guys in the steam room, and we struck up a great conversation about sports, politics, medications, and problems that occur when you get older(I think the words piss and prostrate came up 20 times). After my second shower, and bath, I went out into the lounge to wait for my massage.
I felt like Joey Freakin Knish at the Turkish Bath House in Rounders. I sat next to all the old men, in my white bath robe, and I've never felt happier. The massage came and went, and although I didn't know what to expect, it was pretty cool, and I managed somehow not to embarrass myself.
After the massage, it was back to the man cave in my white robe, where I met some more older men who invited me into the steam room to talk about sports, politics, medications, and foot problems.
My day ended with one more shower, a quick visit to the bathroom to bid a fond farewell to my white porcelain god, and about every spray deodorant, lotion, mouthwash, Q-tip, and anything else I could find on the counter of the sink.
I don't quite remember, but I think I shared a hug with an old man wearing nothing more than a white robe on my way out.
Yes my friends, for one day, at a small day spa in CT, I was Joey Knish.