Friday, January 25, 2008
In past eras, when an ad broad had a bad day, she'd duck into a smoky bar on the way home, puff a few chesterfields, knock back some martinis, then pour herself into a taxi feeling much, much better. (Though presumably much, much worse the next morning.)
How do ad broads today recover from a week as toxic as the one I just had? They treat themselves to qi gong massage, a therapeutic treatment that's been big in China for 3000 years. (A culture that definitely knows about stress.)
Qi Gong parlors aren't advertised (or regulated). In NYC, they're usually on the second floors of walk-ups. No frou-frou decor--massage tables are side by side, separated only by cloth curtains. (Not for prudes.) No Enya music. No terrycloth slippers. Not even appointments. Just several small women with hands of steel and unerring precision in knowing how to knead your troubles away. Next best thing is the price: about a dollar a minute. But tip well--they'll remember!
Here's a list of a few in New York. The place I go to isn't on the list: it's 214 West 72nd where a sign promises (in twelve different typefaces) that qi gong smooths the process of delivering oxygen to the cells, reduces stress, improves bowel functioning, also alleviates chronic kidney disease, liver disease, lower back pain, myopia, obesity, neurasthenia, paralysis induced by external injury, retinopathy, rheumatism, sciatic neuralgia, sleeplessness, stress, ulcers, and peripheral vascular disease.
Obviously, no pesky DDMAC reviews required for this category.