"Ummelina" or "How I Came to Believe in Unicorns"

I have to admit that when Ummelina announced that it was opening a branch of the premier Seattle spa in Yakima, I wanted to immediately become a charter member. What took me so long to get around to actually going there, however, was reading their brochure.

It's obvious this brochure was written by some frustrated Liberal Arts major who never quite got the dream job she'd always wanted. It's loaded with phrases like "rainforest journey" and "freely exploring unique treasures" and "celebrating the journey toward awareness" and other assorted wierdities. When I got to the description of the pregnancy massage as "taking the special time to bond with the life inside you" I think I threw up a little in my mouth. This place was obviously not for me.

So I was a little trepidatious about taking this Journey Toward Awareness right here in NotQuitePalmSprings.

But in the name of research (I have friends coming from the East Coast next week who may need some entertainment after seeing the size of our mall), I decided that the journey had to be taken. I scheduled my appointment.

Unknowingly, I scheduled it for the morning after a Winemaker's Dinner. The Winemaker's Dinners are legendary for sending one from Zero to Drunk in about 15 minutes, so after eating 3 courses of meat and drinking an untold number of L'Ecole wines of all varieties, I awoke the next morning feeling not so great.

I wouldn't say I really had a hangover, but my head was pounding, I felt like I had been chewing cotton balls all night, my eyeballs felt like they were bleeding, I came close to spewing in Pilates class and I was so thirsty Ithought it sounded pleasant to have IV fluids flowing directly to every artery in my body.

Okay. I had a hangover. Of massive proportions.

The first order of business at Ummelina is the "Transition Room." Okay, it's a dressing room. Evidently it's when you transition from your clothes into a waffley pullover robe thing. All your regular clothes and belongings are put in a garment bag. These garment bags evidently can't just have numbers or names on them. Mine was named "Peaceful Moments." The garment bag gets put in a locked closet with other bags with names like "Bliss" and "Tranquility." I did not see any named "Wierdness" or "Whatever" or "This Place Could Creep Me Out Just a Little."

Then you bang a gong. No seriously, when you're transitioned into your waffle thing you bang the gong to call someone (ok, a "guide") to lead you down a very tranquil bamboo-filled hallway to the very tranquil Tea Room. The Tea Room had two teas from which to choose that day: one was called "Pregnancy Tea" and the other one was something with lavender in it. Preferring not to drink flowers, I opted for the pregnant one after the Tea Room lady promised me it wouldn't make me pregnant. I wondered if men ever chose the Pregnancy Tea. I'm pretty sure they don't.

So I sat in a lovely wicker chair drinking pregnant tea, my feet dangling onto a mat made of rocks, and waited. I filled out the standard spa questionaire which asks about my aches and pains, surgeries, drugs, how many drinks I have per week, etc. Like I would tell them that! Ha! Also it's nobody's business if I had liposuction ten years ago, I mean, you know, theoretically, IF I had. I tend to leave out a lot of information that I figure they don't really need.

Then a nice girl (ok, "guide") comes in and washes my feet in a big plastic bowl and rubs something on my legs, all the while telling me what great products she's using. That feels good. (The rub, not the sales speech).

Finally Melaina shows up. Melaina is my new BFF. She's going to massage this hangover right outta me. But first she takes me to the RAINBOW SHOWER. THE RAINBOW SHOWER???? No one has told me about the Rainbow Shower! She leads me to a room with a little sliding barn door that kind of reminds me of Mr. Ed's living quarters, and shows me this most fabulous shower. Water pours from the ceiling! Water spouts from the side walls! Water goes around in circles, in rectangles, in RAINBOWS! From everywhere! I love this place! And that's when I begin to believe in unicorns. Rainbows, unicorns, fairies with their own little harps. This place is truly heaven! Oh please don't make me get out of this shower! My hangover is washing down the drain, drop by glorious rainbow-filled drop!

I make liberal use of the many wonderful hair, face, and body products in the shower. (Hey, I'm paying $90 for this, I want my money's worth), and finally, slowly, regretfully, reluctantly get out and dry myself off. When I slide open the barn door, there's Melaina waiting for me. (Has she been standing there the whole time?)

She leads me to the massage room and after I tell her about my lower back pain proceeds to make a concentrated effort on my upper back. No matter, I sleep through most of it, carried off to slumberland by thoughts of the fairy-filled shower. Melaina mercifully doesn't require much in the way of conversation. Good BFFs are like that.

After an hour of this bliss I'm limp as yesterday's newspaper left out in the rain. I manage to drag myself off the table, put on the waffle robe, and open the door where Melaina is once again waiting for me. (Has she been standing there the whole time?)

She tells me I can sit in the Tea Room again if I'd like, or I can sit outdoors in the very tranquil garden. I go for the garden. The garden is actually a little spot of concrete near where the mall fountain once gurgled. It's filled with cushy wicker patio furniture with lime green and chocolate cushions and loosely bordered by huge pots of bamboo and assorted other green things. It's a sunny but breezy day. I sat in the cushy chair with a warm Bucky around my neck and drank water and thought happy thoughts.

I also wondered whether homeless people ever push their grocery carts full of pop cans up to this little oasis and avail themselves of the tables and chairs, thinking this might be a nicer place to rest than, say, Miller Park or somewhere.

It seems very odd to me to be sitting a bathrobe with a Bucky and my hair sticking out all directions in what was once the Yakima Mall. I stare out at what used to be Nordstrom and listen to the chirp chirp chirp of the walk signals. I wonder if blind people know that chirp-chirp-chirp means walk-walk -walk? And if they're going to make walk signals that make noise, why don't they just make them come right out and say walk-walk-walk? Wouldn't that make more sense to a blind person?

After a couple police cars go by with sirens blaring I start to think there may be a drive-by shooter nearby and I do not want to appear in tomorrow's paper "Spa patron in waffley robe gunned down through the bamboo on Yakima Avenue..." so I stagger to the Transition Room, bang the gong yet again, and someone (ok, a "guide") comes to unlock the closet and retrieve my clothes. But in my state of course I can't remember--was I "Bliss"? No, wasn't I "Tranquility"? Or was I "Peaceful Moments"? Maybe I was "I Believe in Unicorns." I finally correctly guess Peaceful Moments but I can't help wondering if maybe Bliss had better clothes or Tranquility may have contained in it somewhere a Visa card with limit higher than mine. Hmmmm.

And on that note:

Ummelina one hour massage: $90

Tip for Melaina, my BFF: $20

Products that I probably will never use: $45

Losing the hangover/Living to party another night: Priceless.