Oh, how could I forget? On Sunday before Disneyland, Mr. W and I went to a new-to-us massage place recommended to us by a friend of his. It’s not like the nice full-service Burke Williams or Glen Ivy I’m used to going to. There are no whirlpools, no cucumber lemon water, no sauna or quiet reading rooms. This place, called Blue Sky, is a small storefront on the second story of a three-story strip mall in Westminster. We were told it was run by Vietnamese immigrants but that it was “the best message” Mr. W’s friend ever had, and super cheap at $15/hour. So of course I was instantly suspicious of what kind of operation this place really runs, but even more mysterious is the information that the place has no separate or private rooms.

So we made an appointment for two for noon; good thing, because this place was PACKED when we got there. It’s a small open office space with three rows of massage loungers, 3 or 4 loungers per row. The receptionist in front checks you in, then takes you to an available lounger. The male patrons appear to be shirtless and in shorts; the females appear to be in tanktops. I say “appear” because once I laid down, I generally didn’t see much anymore, and the customers were all covered in large towels anyway. I had been advised to wear shorts and a sports bra, so once I got to my station, I stripped down into my minimalist running shorts and tanktop, and my belongings were hung on a peg on the wall next to me. I started in an upright seated position on an ottoman in front of the massage chair, and my feet were placed in a large bucket and soaked in a hot herbal bath as the therapist worked behind me on my neck and shoulders. I heard the guy who supervised and appeared to act like a manager or owner tell my therapist in Chinese, “All the things hanging on this peg are hers, keep an eye on it.” That’s how I knew to speak to the lady in Mandarin, since her English was pretty limited. Turns out everyone working there are Chinese (altho patrons appeared to be of all races), and had been trained as massage therapists in China. The firm and no-nonsense, thorough techniques of accupressure and massage, and even the foot bath were very similar to the massages I’d gotten in China (for more than $15 a pop there, I might add).

My sports bra proved itself to be an impedence to the massage, as the straps don’t move around much, so she asked if I minded if she moved it out of the way or removed it. I said it’s removeable (I’m used to naked massages anyway, altho I normally have more privacy in a room than here) and we discreetly removed it as I was covered with a terrycloth wrap. It was slightly uncomfortable as I lay face-down knowing I’m in the front row by waiting customers, but that’s the way of services in China — no-nonsense, no frills, very matter-of-fact. Nothing lewd, everything was business-like, and she wasn’t shy about hitting the glutes and upper thighs (over the towel), which I appreciated cuz if I’m sore from a workout, chances are my butt muscles are sore, too. The place had the air of practicality of a doctor’s office, except the lights were comfortably dim with soft instrumental music playing.

One of my peeves getting massages is that we end up paying something like $3/minute, and sometimes the therapist gives you 5 minutes to undress and then stops 5 minutes early to let you get dressed, so that’s $30 for nothing. Because there’s no locker room or leaving to let you get dressed/undressed, the hour-long massage was a solid hour. I got in the chair at 11:55a, she stopped at 12:55p. Big points. I also liked the firmness and thoroughness of the massage, altho she did keep checking to make sure the pressure was all right, asking if I wanted it stronger or if it were too strong. I liked that they didn’t tiptoe around “sensitive” body parts like my lower back and behind. It felt like a therapeutic session, not just a pampering rub-down.

As we returned to the front receptionist area to pay (Mr. W’s friend advised us this place is cash-only), we saw a few promotions. If you pay for each session individually, it’s $20 for the hour, plus tip (you tip the massage therapist directly). Or, you can buy 7 vouchers for $100 (just over $14 per hour-long session); or if you buy 10 vouchers (I think this is $130), you get 1 free (which averages out to less than $12 per hour-long session). Mr. W bought 7 vouchers, and we turned in 2 right away to pay for our current massages. The vouchers looked transferrable, so it’s a great gift or an easy way to introduce someone to this place.

Mr. W said that he was happy with this place and would go here from now on, and seemed to expect me to feel the same. He was surprised when I looked dubious. I explained that sometimes I just want to be in a calm zen-inducing environment where I can bond with a girlfriend or two in whirlpools or steamrooms, drinking honeyed tea as we waited for our massage therapist to come get us, and I liked the conversations I can have in the privacy of an individual room with my therapist. Then afterwards, I like the rainfall showerheads and the spa shampoos and bath gels and the hot water spraying me from four directions in the showers. Mr. W said men’s sections of day spas don’t have stuff like that, and he’d never bonded with his therapist like I do with mine (Scott, for example), so he prefers this cheaper no-frills Chinese place. I guess if I were sore from exercise and would like to just stop someplace on the way home from work really quickly, this place would be it. But if I want the package relaxation treatment and I want to enjoy some friendship, then I’d still go for “spa days” at Burke Williams or Glen Ivy. If you’re the shy type and don’t need sports massages, Blue Sky is probably also not the place for you.