Austin Massage Parlors: Our Weird Is Real
Hearing “Jolene” sung by six manly men in overalls at a pickin’ party in Maynardville? Is that weird? Of course not, it’s joyful. It’s hellagood. Nothing goes better with aluminum cans embedded in a gravel driveway than fish out of the fryer and “Jolene” on a Gibson.
Some would argue Turkey Creek with its prefab shopping extravaganza is weird. But then, the pay as you go Chinese massage parlor out there is fab-u-lous. The interior is divided by a series of sheets hung on wires to which create “private” rooms. Each room has a table. You go in. You strip. A tiny lady treats your back like a ball of pizza dough. Yes, there is the indignity of things creaking as she asks, “Harder? Harder?” When she is done your hair looks like it was in a blender but you feel amazing. Thirty bucks please.