airport massage

Tuesday, on my way back from San Diego (I still owe more photos from the weekend as we did more than just cruise around downtown like nerds on segways wearing helmets) I had a layover in Sacramento. There was a massage station, and I've always been tempted by those short massages offered in those weird looking chairs. Because what isn't awkward about having a stranger (who may or may not be licensed) rub you down in a public place? Clearly a worthwhile activity.
I watched for awhile trying to decide if the massages were quality. The people really got in there with their elbows and stuff, so I figured it'd give me the relaxation I needed and help ease me out of my five-day weekend back into a three-day work week. The massage was pretty good, and I am definitely glad I didn't see anyone I know during the whole process. You should totally stop for a massage the next time you have time to kill in an airport (it was definitely healthier than the Cinnabon I wanted to keep me entertained).