You really have to be on your toes for a cruise massage. Those people are ruthless.
Here's what they do. They sit by the elevator and offer unsuspecting passengers a shoulder massage. Next thing you know you've signed up for the $129 Spa Special.
You'll have one of the best massages OF YOUR LIFE, administered by a 4'7" massage therapist with hands the size of Michael Jordan.
And unbelievable cross-sell skills.
Rosalie began my massage by brushing my skin with some sort of Power Loofah. Imagine the broom a janitor would use to remove stubborn spots in the gym.
"Uh-oh", I thought. Rosalie is going to try and sell me a Loofah.
I beat her to the punch. "Oh, I have have one of these," I said.
"One whut?" she asked, as she sloughed off dead skin cells about ten layers into my epidermis.
"One of these brushes."
"Thes gud," she lied, as she mentally crossed the $100 Loofah off the recommended product list.
Then she continued to give me one the best massages I've ever experienced. Sweet, little Rosalie with the big hands. At the end of 75 minutes I heard the ding of the triangle to signify that my time was up.
At this point I was in a massage coma. I recall Rosalie instructing me to get dressed and that she would return with some fresh lemon water.
I stumbled into my clothes and headed out the door, where Rosalie was waiting with my water. "Not so fast Little Lady," she said to me. "Back your ass into that room. I'm not done pitching products."
(OK, maybe those weren't her exact words. I was in a massage coma, after all.)
Rosalie asked me how I enjoyed my massage and I told her it was excellent. "Oh, thes gud," she said, after which she personally recommended the spa gel, which will work wonders on my sore muscles. For only $55.50.
"Oh, I have that!" I lied. "I got it on the Carnival Liberty last summer."
Undeterred, Rosalie rubbed some magic oil on the side of my neck and told me that my life would be much better if I purchased the $63.50 tube.
"Yes, I know!" I said. "I bought a tube of that on the Carnival Breeze a few months back." She raised her eyebrow, so I added, "It really works! I won at bingo the very next night."
So Rosalie dug deeper into her product list and informed me of the "hot off the shelf" Frangipani Oil that, at $63/jar, will make me look ten years younger.
"You won't believe this, Rosalie, but I picked up a jar of that on the Carnival Legend just last month. And it works!"
Rosalie looked at me suspiciously.
"Yes," I said. "It was a birthday present for myself. I turned 95."
Poor Rosalie was dumbstruck. She had no clue who she was dealing with.
I handed her a $10 tip as I ran out the door.
And I move pretty damn fast for a nonagenarian.