Manhattan Me

I've shied away from getting pedicures in this big city because as a country girl at heart, I'm wary of the cleanliness of the foot baths here (ok, maybe it's because I'm just a plain germophobe, and not that I'm from the suburbs but I'll never tell). I've heard enough horror stories of foot fungus and infection to keep me away for years. But one night on a whim, my friend and I went to a nail salon off the beaten path of Times Square one Friday night, and settled in for a manicure and pedicure. I could hardly contain my excitement, a pedicure chair fit for a queen awaited me, blue water the color of the Caribbean sea, complete with lemon wedges like half moons bobbing in the water while vibrant orchids floated around them. This, I thought, is a serious upgrade from my old nail salon in Connecticut. Goodbye Nail Expo, heelllloo...wait, what was this place called again?

I settled in for what I expected to be a life changing pedicure, the kind that would finally convince me it's not only okay, but a necessity, to indulge in this sumptuous service more than once a year. I watched as my pedicurist (nail technician?) went to work on my tired feet, filing, more filing and wait...painting? Where was the exfoliating lotion? The razor scrapping away at my feet until they were as smooth as hustler from Harlem, and the all important foot massage? Had I slipped into the aforementioned time vacuum and missed out on these pleasantries? No, I hadn't and the proof could be found on my right foot, looking very much as it had when I stepped in this place.

Afterwards, she led me to the manicure table, and I realized just 15 minutes had passed. FIFTEEN MINUTES???! The manicure was much the same and I left, fully regretting the experience. How could something that started out so promising leave me feeling so unfulfilled? I mean, there were ORCHIDS for goodness sake!

I convinced myself it was a fluke. So this afternoon, I took myself, on my boyfriend's dollarthis time, to a different nail salon; positive thoughts in tow. I awaited in the pedicure chair and watched the woman next to me--her legs covered in some type of mint mask, her bath water bursting with aromatic soapy bubbles. I could hardly wait for mine! My pedicurist asked me something, inaudibly. After three times, that woman next to me in Pedicure Heaven looked over her magazine and declared, "She is asking if you want a SPA pedicure. Like me!" Oh, no. No, no, no. What a horrible mistake. This woman next to me had to shell out the big bucks for what is standard practice in the suburbs. I resigned myself to a run of the mill pedicure, again. I'll admit this one was a little better, there was some exfoliating lotion, but no foot massage, no pumice stone, no scraper.

I thought about this while my nails dried and realized that in New York, there is no such thing as leisure. Half the women in that place probably think the nail salon is doing them a favor, giving them speedy service. They probably talk about it with their girlfriends at Starbucks afterwards, how nice it was that their nails look so great and it was fast, too! But not me, all I want is for someone to rub my tired feet. Is that so much to ask?