Texan’s feet must hurt. Maybe it’s the boots. There is a little foot massage place on every block just like dry cleaners. I guess it’s one way I fit in around here. My feet have always hurt. I recently discovered my new favorite foot place. It’s called Ya-Ya. I have no idea what that means. My Chinese reflexology guy who speaks no English whatsoever is named Mike. Probably not really, though.
One day I was at Ya-Ya and I was laying comfortably on my chaise lounge with a washcloth over my eyes listening to the calming sound of trickling water from a charming fountain and some eastern meditation music while Mike did his magic on my feet. The woman next to me was in paradise with her own foot person. Suddenly a young gal burst in the door, yakking deafeningly on her cell phone, told the person on the other end to hang on while she announced urgently that she had an appointment at 3:30 pm and as she was getting comfortable on her chaise lounge, took up where she left off in her boisterous conversation.
I have a hard time with how utterly rude people can be with cell phones but this was preposterous. Ya-Ya is a dark, quiet, serene environment where patrons go to have a reprieve from the stresses of life. This woman was almost shouting.
I instantly sprang from a horizontal position to a vertical one and said with force, “Excuse me!! This is completely unacceptable!!”
All the Chinese reflexologists giggled nervously and dropped their eyes. The lady next to me gave me a thumbs up.
“Oh! I have to go, Roxanne. I’ll call you later,” the loud mouth said as she hung up the phone. “Uh, oh, sorry, uh, sorry….”
“Thank you,” I said. And I lay back down. (lay? layed? laid? lie? David Goldberg, help me!)
As we were paying, the woman who had been next to me thanked me for my boldness. I told her ten years ago I might have seethed quietly with my anger but as I’ve gotten older when I know in my heart it’s dead wrong, I don’t hesitate. Now, in retrospect that sounds strong AND courageous! (See my last post!)