I should’ve known better. Maybe it was having to walk the three flights of stairs. Or the shady looking China man playing “Locker Boy.” Maybe it was the one hot tub full of concrete bags, 2x4s and plants. Or perhaps it was the recliner room resembling that of a Keno Lounge. But once that little Chinese woman started walking on my back and cracked my spine, I let the questions of this illegitimate establishment fade away with my tension.
Until she ended with, “OK. All done. You want special massage?”
And with that, I grabbed my budgie smugglers and rounded the corner to the nearest Mexican restaurant, where I revoked my colleague’s privileges for asking pimply-faced, mid-20 year old Concierge boys who still live at home where to find a good Thai massage.
Welcome to Melbourne, Australia.
Where pimply-faced, mid-20 year old Concierge boys who still live at home send unsuspecting white male business types to shady, shady massage parlours. Open ‘til 2 am.
I would’ve written you from Brisbane, but the only time I left the hotel was for a Friday night out in The Valley. And I don’t take night photos so good. Aside from not making it back to my hotel room and my friends sneaking away as I dozed off in the park under the late Saturday morning sun, you didn’t miss much. They were however, nice enough to call and wake my ass up as some freaky, lonely old homeless man encroached. Ok. That was funny. And I would’ve done the same.
Until she ended with, “OK. All done. You want special massage?”
And with that, I grabbed my budgie smugglers and rounded the corner to the nearest Mexican restaurant, where I revoked my colleague’s privileges for asking pimply-faced, mid-20 year old Concierge boys who still live at home where to find a good Thai massage.
Welcome to Melbourne, Australia.
Where pimply-faced, mid-20 year old Concierge boys who still live at home send unsuspecting white male business types to shady, shady massage parlours. Open ‘til 2 am.
I would’ve written you from Brisbane, but the only time I left the hotel was for a Friday night out in The Valley. And I don’t take night photos so good. Aside from not making it back to my hotel room and my friends sneaking away as I dozed off in the park under the late Saturday morning sun, you didn’t miss much. They were however, nice enough to call and wake my ass up as some freaky, lonely old homeless man encroached. Ok. That was funny. And I would’ve done the same.
