We Are Leaving!!

We decided to do the relaxing couple thing and book an all-over massage. Very sophisticated. Very worldly. Very “look at us embracing the local culture.”

The place looked calm enough. Soft music. Dim lights. Tiny cups of tea. Women who looked about ninety pounds soaking wet but somehow possessed the thumb strength of industrial machinery.

At first it was lovely. Stretching, oils, elbows in places I didn’t even know could hurt. The squeeze was in the bed next to mine behind one of those curtains that give the illusion of privacy while allowing you to hear every grunt, crack, and accidental fart in the building.

Every now and then I’d hear him mutter things like, “Jesus Christ,” or “Ooohhh,” which in fairness could have meant pain, relaxation, or spiritual awakening. Hard to tell.

Then suddenly there was silence.

Not peaceful silence. Suspicious silence.

A second later, I heard the unmistakable sound of panic-dressing. Velcro. Shuffling. A curtain violently dragged open like someone storming out of a motel raid.

There stood the squeeze, fully clothed, looking horrified.

“We are LEAVING,” he announced.

Apparently the massage had drifted a little too close to the family jewels for his comfort, and rather than politely navigating the situation, he reacted like a man escaping an attempted kidnapping.

The poor woman looked absolutely bewildered. I was still half covered in oil trying to process what was happening while he stood there clutching his shoes like a traumatized Victorian gentleman whose honour had nearly been compromised.

So that was the end of our relaxing spa experience.

Nothing says romance in Vietnam quite like fleeing a massage parlour mid-rub while your partner marches into the street muttering about boundaries and nearly spraining an ankle getting his shorts back on.