There’s something wonderfully indulgent about a midweek escape to our favorite resort spa. After all, retirement has its perks such as freedom from the calendar and the ability to say, “Why not today?”, doesn’t it?
Mrs. Lovebird and I had planned the spa getaway the week before her wedding. COVID derailed those plans, which needed to be postponed until after the nuptials. With the girls at the spa, the boys were free to try out the local Escape Room. Everyone was happy with the plans.
Our indulgent day began with a small delay in the women’s locker room. It seems the spa had a deadly buildup of spa scum around the water line. Scum and men are two words that shouldn’t be uttered in a luxury spa.
You haven’t truly lived until you’ve tried to tiptoe around workmen in blue overalls while clutching your robe and dignity. But we survived with a few giggles and only minor embarrassment, giving us something to laugh about before we even reached the tranquility zone.
Once inside the waiting area, the world softened. In a very dark room, water trickled gently down a glass wall, creating the perfect soundtrack for our deep, spiritual reflection or, at least, reflection on whether we preferred almonds or pretzels from the snack bar. The orange-lemon water sparkled like a promise, and we were tempted by the bowl of cucumber slices “for the eyes”, almost mistaken for a side dish.
Our sugar scrub treatments were divine with just the right mix of exfoliation, after which we glowed like polished apples. Then came the hotel’s famed “state-of-the-art showers,” which, rumor has it, cost $15,000 apiece. They didn’t disappoint with water coming from all directions to wash away the scrub.
After the rinse came lavender moisturizing cream with the scent of serenity itself followed by a massage where our therapists kneaded us like bread dough destined for greatness. By the end, we were thoroughly destressed.
Then came “the relaxation room.” Ah yes, the room that had once been my favorite spot for post-massage bliss. Unfortunately, the hotel decided to “improve” it. Let’s just say they should have asked a few paying customers before ruining it. It seems the “Changer in Charge” never used the spa to see what worked and what didn’t. This room is now a new and improved fail. So sad.
Lunch was served on the veranda beneath cobalt-blue November skies. Somehow, the desert air felt like spring, and we basked in the golden warmth of 70 degrees, laughing about our day and wondering whether we should take up spa reviewing as a second career.
When we met the menfolk a few hours later, they’d just been “blown up” at the local “escape room” experience. Looking slightly singed, with egos a bit deflated, they were grinning from ear to ear. It seems that while we were being kneaded into relaxation, they were being blown up by imaginary explosives. Sadly, they didn’t make it out of the room during the sixty minutes they were given.
Retirement really is the loveliest time of life, especially when you’ve learned how to work it. And between you and me? I think we’ve got it down to a fine art.
