Part – I of Vegas
I had to start with this post lest I forget the comic relief this whole escapade added to our otherwise clandestine vacation. Knowing fully well what the previous visit did to my feet, I was determined to pamper them rotten this time. I got on to mighty Google the night before and started frantically looking for foot spas.
I found some very interesting reviews on yelp about where to go, whom to ask for, and what exactly to do. The lights on the strip are so lively that you will stay up all night and day in spite of yourself. The evening we landed, the weather was frightfully cold and windy, and our walks on to the strip and beyond were long and achy. But the golden parachute lay waiting for our tired and knotted feet.
Hailing a cab from the casino, we got in assuming the driver knew where to take us. That’s pretty much the strip—hop into a cab, tell the driver your next hotel or casino and even before you’ve had a chance to blink, you’ve arrived. However, the driver had no clue what I was talking about. The foot spa was nowhere near the strip, so the driver’s ineptitude was forgivable :-). We drove in the general direction of Chinatown and what ensued was more than comical to say the least.
Scene: Three women in the back of a cab squeezed next to each other, fumbling for the address and peering out the window of a moving cab in the hope of catching a glimpse of the signage that hopefully read “Pure Foot & Spa.” Moi on the phone talking to the owner; DJ looking at the ragged sheet of paper with the address and reading it out loud; Jo reading out sign boards loud as we pass them by.
No hope. Chinatown in Vegas has hundreds of similar looking restaurants, stores, and massage places bumped one next to the other. There were so many here that by the time we read one sign board, we’d missed the next four. I asked Angel, the owner, to give me a landmark, and she rattled off the address. I tried again to tell her that I needed a store, a restaurant, something that will let me know how to find her place. She said in English, “look for Chinese restaurant” and something else that I didn’t understand. How does one find a “Chinese restaurant” when every single one of them says, “Chinese” restaurant. But find we did the “Pure Foot & Spa” eventually. It was a small, no frills place. It was impeccably clean though. We got to sit on recliners, kick back our feet, and simply relax. Three middle-aged Chinese men worked on us for an hour and before I knew it, they were kicking the crap out of any massage I’ve ever had in my life. Hands down, this was THE best massage I’ve ever had. I was, you see, a foot massage virgin until then. Once you’ve tasted the good stuff, there is no turning back.
We were unable to get a cab back, so the owner offered to drop us back. She called one of her chums and in a few minutes, a short, stocky China man pulled up in a silver Mitsubishi. There was little in terms of communication that happened between us until a crazed woman decided to run us off the road. She said the F word and he said something similar in Chinese back at her. That’s when the “I am Su” post happened all over again. I decided to ask him his name. This time I felt like I was in the other seat. He probably thought in his mind how can this woman distort my name, one single name into so many different sounding names. He was transformed in those five minutes from Chai, Sai, Cai, Shy, Shay to this one other name I cannot remember. The poor soul decided to hand out his card before I decided to mutilate his name any further. It read “Gung Kao Cai.”
By the time the light bulb in my head went ting, we were back at the casino and getting ready for our next adventure.
“Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas,” reads the sign at the south end of the strip welcoming people into the city of lights since 1954. I was visitor number God knows what.