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But yo, the awkward hits hard. She’s all, “relax, bro,” and I’m like, “HOW?” My brain’s yellin, “Don’t get weird, don’t get weird,” but my back’s poppin like firecrackers. Happy? Hell yeah, when she hit that spot—pure bliss, fam. Angry? When she charged me extra for “aromatherapy”—what, you spritzin Febreze? Surprised me how some spots got secret menus—nudge nudge, wink wink, ya feel me? Shady massage parlors be wildin.

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” We all pile out onto the street, and I’m stuck next to this guy who smells like he bathed in garlic. No joke. I’m trying not to gag while we wait for the all-clear.