Necessary Luxuries

At a time when politicians and car insurance commercials are waxing nostalgic for a simpler era, I don’t see how anyone could justify paying money for a human function. I could have walked two blocks and one avenue down to Central Park and passed out for free.

West side salon Yelo, specializes in relaxation and reflexology. I was taken to a sleep pod where an anti-gravity chair awaited. Music pumped into the pod and my choice of scent was sprayed in the air: relax, detox, sleep, or energize. I added a ten-minute reflexology massage to twenty minutes of napping for $40.

Calling it a birthday experiment for myself, I sat in my anti-gravity chair, inhaling lavender oil under my nose with the skepticism of a scientist testing a Ouiji board.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Why the hell am I doing this?

The masseuse started to rub my neck and shoulders. Tension I didn’t know I’d been carrying melted away. I breathed deeper.

Maybe this isn’t so bad...

“Hi, Carly. Time to get up!” my masseuse told me. She’d left the room twenty minutes earlier, and I had fallen asleep. I tried to account my sleepiness to three straight days of late nights followed by early mornings, but the anti-gravity chair probably didn’t hurt. I can’t say I’ll be a regular customer, but indulgence in moderation isn’t all that bad, is it?

-Carly Okyle

Sunday Funnies

Overheard in NY

"White people are the minority here and I think that's really awesome!" -Recent Portland transplant on Bed-Stuy.

Are you a natural snooper who overheard something unnatural? Send your captured conversation snippets and we'll print what's fit. pomponline@gmail.com

Throwback

Pool Party

-Amanda Segur

Hey Baby

Heat and mating season make New Yorkers let it all hang out. I am pro sex yet have always had mixed feelings about street harassment. A woman whose weight fluctuates from average to a little extra, a globe trekker approaching 30, I’ve developed an international view on the issue.

Growing up in Philly after I lost my baby fat and had a growth spurt I got a lot of attention on the block. I chuckled, flinched sometimes. After a few years, I took “White is right!” “Can I get a ride? and “Pssst, snowflake” for granted. Yet I was always self-conscious, wearing overalls over my miniskirt to waitress one summer.

In France, I starved myself more to almost French size, sticking out only to my matronly host who said I was a little plump. Still, I was the victim of both friendly Bonjours and a teenage ass grabber.

I moved to Japan and gained 20 pounds. My teenaged students shouted “I love you,” and girls grabbed my breasts in clubs. I was the victim of chikan-subway molestation. A crime so common authorities told me to carry hatpins.

I moved to New York five years ago. In the big city, women and men, cultivate the blank, sidewalk face, which I wear more often than I’d like. Sometimes, a “God bless you, beautiful” is a relief.

-A.

Bring It Back!

A sign of the times, my babysitter gave ten year-old me an O.J. Simpson slammer. Even then, I didn't see the purpose of Pogs, yet I proudly stashed them, building a collection I lost interest in around the same time I got rid of my mushroom cut.

Pogs? Bring It Back?

-Royal