"Let's go to Chinatown."
"Why?" I asked, cradling the phone between my head and shoulder as I finished stirring some guacamole.
"I need to do some research for my ethnography class. We're supposed to interview someplace every week for the entire quarter and then write a paper on it. It's boring by myself. Come on, go with me. All the really cool kids are doing it..."
I did a mental checklist: my readings were done, I had started my paper due next week... "Sure, I'm free. Want me to meet you at the Blue Line, Kate?"
"That sounds good. I'll see ya there, John."
I hung up and took the bus to the Blue Line subway station. Katelyn was already waiting for me and waved wildly as I got off the bus. I gave her a quick hug and we made our way to the platform. I had to bat her long, violet scarf out of my face a few times as the wind blew it around chaotically.
"So where are you doing your research?" I asked as the train jerked to life, taking us towards Chinatown.
"At this massage parlor: Paradise Massage. At first I was thinking of doing a restaurant, but the employees don't really have time to just sit and talk with me, but there, they're stuck with me anyway, so I can talk to them all I like."
"Do they know you're researching them?"
"No, I'm worried they won't be as open if they know. It's easy to get them to open up, though. From what I can tell, they don't really have many female clients, and since we're all Chinese, I think they're just happy to have someone to share their stories with."
"Ya, I doubt many of the people who go there really care much about their life-stories." I paused and bit my lip. "So, um, is this is 'happy ending' kind of massage parlor, or?"
She laughed. "Jonathan! Do you only think with your dick? I haven't really asked. I don't want them thinking I'm a cop or anything, and it's not as though I can benefit from it, anyway. Maybe I'll talk to some of the guys there one day, ask them about it. I'm sure they'd love to brag about their exploits to a cute, curious Asian girl."
"Well if you want, I'll go undercover and try to find some stuff out for you," I offered.
She lit up. "Really?! You don't mind?"
"No, I've never had a real massage before. It'll be a nice experience. Would you want to come in and observe, or should I just tell you after?"
"Hmm...how about I observe one, and then you do another alone?"
"Won't they be suspicious if you're watching me?"
"I'll just say you're nervous going in alone. They know me there, anyway. I don't think it'll be a problem. Or I can pose as your translator. A lot of the masseuses don't speak good English."
"Sounds like a plan." I checked my watch: 12:00. "Want to grab a meal first?"
"Sure, it's on me. Thanks for being my undercover agent, John."
"It's quite a sacrifice to be massaged by beautiful women, but for you, I'm
just
willing to do it."
She punched my shoulder and laughed. "Jerk. You better do it. It'll help my paper, and I won't have to talk to any sketchy guys hanging out at the parlor."
"Alright, alright, for you."
We found a nice restaurant in Chinatown and ate. After we finished, she led me to Paradise Massage
"Alright, this is the place."
I examined it. The windows showed medical charts in Chinese, presumably extolling the health benefits of massage. The building was nondescript. Just a plain, two-story, brick building on a fairly busy street. I followed Katelyn inside.
There was a stairwell to one side, and a desk as soon as we entered the door. A middle-aged Chinese man sat behind the desk. He was clean-shaven and his hair was graying at the temples. Katelyn and he began speaking in Mandarin, and since I couldn't follow a word, I just took in the dΓ©cor. It was simple, but nice. The walls were warm, with bamboo designs. The downstairs area looked more like a barbershop, with a number of cushy chairs connected to washing basins. I grabbed a paper menu and looked at what they offered. Swedish massage, Thai massage, table shower, foot massage, scalp massage, that must be what the basins were for, hot stone massage, interesting stuff. I wondered what made a Thai massage Thai and a Swedish massage Swedish. Was one hot and spicy and the other cool and serious? And what was a table shower? Why would you want your table to have a shower? Maybe whoever translated the term did a bad job...
"John?"
"Huh, ya?"
"He says it's OK for me to go in with you. He told us to head upstairs and ask for Mei. Oh, and take your shoes off here," she said, pointing to a wall of cubbies, several of which had shoes in them. "They're not allowed upstairs."
I slipped out of my sneakers and followed Katelyn upstairs. It consisted of a central room, connected to two long hallways. In the central room were chairs and couches, oriented towards a large TV. Right now a few girls were sitting there, ranging from their 20s to their 40s, chatting away in Chinese, taking a break between massages. We were there on a Thursday afternoon, so I wasn't really surprised by the lack of other clients.
Katelyn asked for Mei, and a petite girl stood up from her couch and came over to us. She was wearing gray sweat pants, a low-cut white shirt, and bright pink flip flops. She was youngish, with a pair of red glasses, and a mildly entertained smile. She was about a head shorter than me and thin, although her arms were wiry from her work. She spoke to Katelyn and brought us to an empty room, gestured us in, and shut the door.
The room was bare: a wooden floor, a covered massage table, a small shelf full of oils and towels, a chair, and a stereo in one corner playing quiet oriental music designed to relax. "What now?" I asked Katelyn.
She pointed to a row of hooks near the door. "She said you should get undressed and get on the table. By the way, when I told the guy at the desk I wanted to go with you, he asked if I was your girlfriend, and I said yes." She shrugged, "It seemed easiest to just go with the story they gave me. Hope you don't mind."
"No, no problem," I said, taking off my shirt. "How much do I have to take off?"