Ain't The Same F*cking Sport Either...

Well, I'm back from China, but I saved my favorite story until I was back in the States. One night when I was in Shanghai my sales team asked me if I wanted to go get a foot massage with one of our customers. I did a quick mental search to see if "foot massage" could be something else, and I determined that in Communist China I was pretty safe.

So we show up to this gigantic building and the first thing they ask you to do is to take your shoes off (seemed logical to me). The first amusing moment for me is when they tried to give me the "one size fits all" slippers. I wear about a size 14 or 15 shoe, so they had to scurry around and find a new pair of slippers for me. Then we went upstairs to some locker rooms. One of the sales guys turns to me and says, "Ok, get naked and then join us in the other room." It was at this moment that I thought perhaps my definition of a foot massage was inaccurate. I thought of Jules saying to Vincent in Pulp Fiction, "Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine..." (this is one of my favorite scenes ever in a movie. For the full scene scroll to the end of this post).

I was surprised, but I wasn't going to bail. As I got undressed I noticed two Chinese men who were my personal attendants (apparently) standing on either side of me. When I took my shirt off one of them tried to grab it from me. Now I'm more than capable to get naked on my own, so I politely declined. Of course he spoke no English so he tried to grab it from me. I had to forcibly grab it back. Then I explained to both of them using wild arm movements that I was happy to be left alone.

I wrapped a towel around me and walked into this large room with hot tubs and showers. I noticed a series of stalls where you sat down and held a shower head above you. I quickly noticed there were no seat covers for these stools. I started to question whether China truly was set to take over the World. I sat down in my designated stall and tried to discourage my new personal attendant from helping me. There were a series of soaps and conditioners in front of me, but since they were all in Chinese I didn't use any of them.

Then the sales team I was with and our potential customer got into the hot tub. Since it was about 95 degrees in Shanghai I wasn't really thrilled with the idea of getting into a hot tub with these guys. I was even less interested in getting into the hot tub with them completely naked. One of our sales guys suggested going in the ice tub. I decided as the lone American in the room I had to "represent" and wasn't willing to suffer from the inevitable shrinkage that was sure to occur in this ice water.

We hung (non pun intended) out in the hot tub for a while and then I decided to get out. I went into the "drying room" where a new set of attendants attempt to dry you off. Once again I felt completely comfortable in drying myself off, but alas the language barrier got in the way. The guy tried to take my towel from me and I grabbed it back from him. Then he tried to start drying me off, and I had to push his hands away from me (I don't know why they don't have drying girls instead of drying guys, but that's another story). I got changed into some sort of cabana wear and then went to our private room for the foot massages. I sat down in a chair and put my feet up and then this woman comes in and gave me a foot massage for about an hour. That turned out to be quite pleasant, and I was happy to see that everyone else was clothed at this point.

When we went back to the locker room to get dressed I was once again accosted by attendants (don't these people learn?). To confuse them I took my towel and tossed it about 10 feet from me. While they scurried to pick it up I was successfully able to get dressed without being hassled further.

When we were leaving I was amused to see that the foot massage establishment attempted to rip us off. Despite only having four pairs of shoes, they claimed that there were five of us. Then they claimed that I'd ordered all sorts of special services. Our sales guy pointed out that I couldn't speak any Mandarin and would have no idea how to order any of the things that they claimed I had ordered (rust proofing anyone?).

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Jules: It was a foot massage, a foot massage is nothing, I give my mother a foot massage.
Vincent: It's laying hands on Marsellus Wallace's new wife in a familiar way. Is it as bad as eatin' her out -- no, but you're in the same fuckin' ballpark.
Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing.
Vincent: It's not. It's the same ballpark.
Jules: Ain't no fuckin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same fuckin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: [scoffs] Don't be tellin' me about foot massages. I'm the foot fuckin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?
Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be ticklin' or nothin'.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
[Jules gives Vincent a long look, realizing he's been set up]
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired. I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' a little pissed here.