As I stare out the window of the van, I ponder how tinted windows work. Suddenly, we pull into the round, lighted driveway of the Hampton Inn. We are visiting Boston and this is our hotel for 5 days. The building is tall and very wide. It is late at night, about ten thirty. We roll our luggage through the automatic doors into the lobby. The first thing I see is a man, probably Mexican or Spanish, leaning on a bed that is separated into few parts. In front of him is a sign that reads Free Massages. My mom walks over to the front desk to check in. I follow her. The woman behind the desk is on a computer. I turn back and advance to where my dad is standing. He watches me stare at the massage man.
“Do you want to get a massage?” he asks. I debate it in my head and say yes- it will be fun, and it’s free.
We walk over to the bed. The man, in a foreign accent, tells me to lie down face down on the massage bed. The green fabric sticks into my face. I am also uncomfortable because of a gap in the bed in the middle of my chest. He touches my back, just a touch, and I burst out laughing and sit up. He had just touched me, through my shirt, and it had tickled so much. I decide to try again and lie back down. This time when he touches me, I resist the ticklish feeling for a second but I can’t resist the second time he touches me. I burst out laughing, nearly falling off the bed.
By now it is time to go. My dad thanks the man and hands him a one dollar tip.
“Thank you,” he says. We walk over to the elevator. When it arrives, I look back at the massager. He smiles at me. We step into the elevator and my dad presses the 7th floor button. As the doors close, I get my last look at the massage man. He is still smiling happily at me.
