I Like to Know the Plan

I've been getting acupuncture for the last year and a half and last night, for the first time in all that time, I wondered aloud - What would happen if there were a fire?

My acupuncturist found this "hilarious" because "people usually wonder about an earthquake." He continued chuckling to himself and inserting needles into my flesh until I repeated more urgently, "But really, what would happen?" 

There I was lying there face down under a sheet with nothing on but these terrible underpants. I'll call them underpants because that is how unattractive they are.

Hanky Panky lace thongs were really popular (as popular as underwear fads can ever be) the year before I got married. As a result, I received perhaps 7 pairs of Hanky Panky lace thongs as shower gifts. Here is the concept: They are made entirely of stretchy lace, so they are one-size-fits-all.

Here is the reality: They cost a lot - I want to say $20/pair (which is ridiculous for something no one ever sees) and one size nearly never fits all. 

Although, like many other trends over the years, I convinced myself I liked it, this look is most akin to a droopy diaper or a saggy loin cloth. 

So there I was lying face down on the table with a sheet over my back, wearing only these terrible underpants. The acupuncturist inserts each needle one-by-one until huge plains of skin are covered in them. Once the needles are in place, you can't move. If you do, a sensation not unlike an electric shock, surges through your body and begs you to remain inert. There is no twitching or itching or shifting or scratching allowed. When all of the needles are in place, the acupuncturist leaves me to "relax". Generally, it's quite calming and I drift into some sort of meditative, dreamy place. It feels like having one foot in sleep and one in awake;  like when you are waking up from fainting and you feel like you are in a dream, but then you begin to hear real life sounds around you and you realize you are in that weird in between place.

20 needles concentrated in my neck and back was fairly intense. I could not move at all.I was pinned to the table.  Suddenly, I envisioned myself alone in the dark, Spanish mandolins being played from a tiny iPod docking station, everyone else evacuated and I realize I need to escape. I try to lift my head and a shock of energy rushes down my spine and legs and begs me to flop my face back down. 

I picture myself rolling to the right, landing like a huntress, squatting below the table in defensive posture. Next I'd pull the sheets from the table and fashion a toga for myself, before crawling to the door, checking for smoke and then fleeing to fresh air barely escaping being burned to a crisp.

The acupuncturist answered, "Well, I would come and get you and we'd wrap a sheet around you and you'd be fine."

"Good," I muttered dismissively, my face poking through the massage table donut.  I knew I had a plan, and with that I drifted into rest, Spanish mandolins and all.