The Spa Who Hated Me

Licensed to disappoint.



I think this year I actually aged. I said I didn't want anything for my birthday, no party, nothing. And then the day came and I was as disappointed as a fourteen year old that there wasn’t a huge surprise party or a mini parade. No puppies, no keys to a car with a bow on them, no cake baked with nickels and dimes inside. No nothing.

My birthday is on January 2nd. Thirty (+x) years ago my mother actually had to leave a New Year’s Eve party because she was going into labor. What she was doing at a New Year’s Eve party that close to giving birth is a little suspect, but it was in a time before low carb diets and pilates. That was back when a beer a day was seen as good for the baby. I was also born a month premature and so I came out all small and jaundicey. A 5 lb yellow baby. That meant a lot of time in a plexiglass cylinder under the fry lamp until I was ready. Maybe it was due to the beer a day theory.

Anyhow – historically my birthday has SUCKED.

To be fair last year I managed to have a good birthday. I woke up alone, strangely, even though I did/do have a boyfriend, and went to the Turkish and Russian baths with my roommate, felt very self conscious with my post-Christmas-holidays bathing suit body, had an amazing massage by an Russian man who kneaded me until I was Gumby, ate dinner with a small group of friends, and finally went to a bar that was – surprise! - chalk full of friends, acquaintances and even some people I don’t really like! That is the sign of a good birthday party – if even a few people you don’t like show up.

This year was different. This year it was left in my hands. Clearly nothing should ever be left in my hands. I decided at the last minute that I would try to persuade a bunch of my girlfriends to join me at a reasonably priced spa…which now I learn may not exist. I picked Juvenex Spa. It looked nice. It had a little something called the Jade Journey where you travel from super hot sauna to super hot steam room to a series different temperature baths. Plus there were facials, body scrubs, and massages to be had… all in the heart of Korea town. Should I be suspicious of a spa that is open 24 hours? I suggest for kicks you visit their website and read their faqs. Funny stuff. http://www.juvenexspa.com/homepage.html

So, a few friends were willing to spend $150 on spa treatments on my birthday. Four of the adventurous ones showed up and we proceeded to steam and soak – but much to our chagrin, half of Manhattan was also there walking around nude and soaking in the communal hot tubs. I’m no prude, but taking a bath in the same water that some stranger’s naked body has lingered in FREAKS ME OUT. Not like a thin layer of spandex acts like a body condom between someone’s viral body and a hot tub… it just looks better.

My Jade Journey left me with a bit of wisdom, a new mantra… and that is: you should be able to choose in life who ends up naked beside you. No more nude surprises.

But the spa wasn’t awful. The steam room was pretty amazing. The sauna/stone pizza oven was really cool. There was a bar section where you could drink spring water infused with cucumber and eat fresh fruit. Somehow I found myself spending a lot of time sitting at the spa bar. Old habits die hard.

I bought myself a way too expensive facial. All my friends were called to have their treatments and I was left there waiting and waiting and waiting. On my birthday. Just sitting there, growing older. I calmly asked the spa workers when I could expect to be called for my service. None of them spoke or understood anything remotely close to English so they just nodded their heads, smiled, and scurried off. After an hour I made the choice to lose my mind on the young Russian woman who sat at the reception desk. Russians tend to have thick skin. She didn’t even blink until I threatened to cancel my appointment and refuse to pay. It was two hours after my scheduled appointment. I was forgotten. On my birthday. I kept thinking about that way way way too much.

I was finally ushered into a treatment room where a young Korean girl was running around frantically and asked me if I can wait a few more minutes. This really got to me. It hit me that I wasn’t having a good time. I was spending a lot of money and not having a good time. I felt like Eeyore with a broken balloon. The Korean girl called me in I laid down for my treatment. I had worked myself into such a state that all I could think about was fleeing the table but I didn’t know how. I really don’t like rocking the boat…or the bed in this case. The young facialist began her routine of cleaning and cleansing and trying to make me feel better by telling me in high pitched broken English that I looked beautiful – and finally as the clay mask started to go on, my frustration broke and tears just started flowing. I was so embarrassed and tried to hold back, but it was no use. Years and years of pent up birthday frustration poured out making the clay mask run off my face and sting my skin, further rattling my facialist, who tried to mop up my tears with cotton balls while repeating “you should stop cry!!”. Her hysteria off set my exasperation and I finally stopped crying. We looked at each other – she told me she wasn’t going to cut any corners and I wasn’t sure why she was saying that as I hadn’t accused her of ripping me off or anything. Fifteen minutes before the facial ended I found myself letting go a little, but it was basically the worst I have ever felt during a $200 spa treatment.

I emerged from the room and there were my four friends waiting for me, sitting uneasily in towels and robes. It made me laugh a little, the idea that I had put them in such a ridiculous situation – manipulated them because it was my birthday. Little did I know the spa had a surprise in store for me! The mean Russian receptionist appeared with a cool whip and canned fruit birthday cake and a bottle of Spumonti! The kind of thing a young whore gets on her 15th birthday. Of course they forgot to get forks, so they said if we could wait a few minutes they could find some. I was fucking done with waiting and plunged into to the white whipped cake with my hands and my friends eagerly followed. It was delicious in between gulps of sweet pink champagne. The mood was light. We made fun of the spa, its naked weirdoes, my salty mud mask and the cool whip cake. What the fuck are you going to do, right? Except lay down the credit card and see if you can steal a robe. I opened my notebook and started a new section called “Things I will never do on my birthday again”. Numero uno: Buy a $200 jaded journey.