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Back in 1996, I took advantage of a wonderful opportunity for traveling to Thailand. (As a matter of coincidence, I arrived in Bangkok on the very day that Princess Diana died.) Now mind you, Thailand offers a variety of fantastic things to do, places to go, and people to meet. And I did as many things, visited as many places, and met with as many people as my time and budget would allow. From parasailing to island hopping, from elephant riding to tiger petting, from intimate lunches with the locals to nightclubbing with some expats, I had a blast!

One of my experiences in Thailand, though, left an especially deep and pleasant impression on my mind: the full body massage.

Before we get too far into the story behind this massage, though, I have to tell you that it wasn't just the massage that electrified me; it was the entire experience! From the moment I approached the nicely manicured building to the moment I floated down the street afterward, I can barely recall a more invigorating chapter in my lifetime.

As I've said, contrary to what you might picture, the nicely manicured massage parlor I visited stood more like an upscale car dealership in Palm Beach than like some rundown crack house in Detroit. The front of the building appeared like a Greek coliseum with tall white pillars and arches adorned by hanging plants. Palm trees gently swayed in the humid Asian air. Brightly hued tropical flowers graced both sides of the walkway leading to the front entrance; and enter I did.

Inside the double glass doors, the efficient staff politely guided me to a table. So, I sat in the carpeted reception area, sipping Mekong and Coke with a lime twist. After refusing a menu (for sandwiches or Thai food) I turned my attention to the right of the table where I could see at least fifteen gorgeous women sitting on bleachers behind a Plexiglas wall. I noticed several microphones erected on my side of the wall. When I asked, the smartly attired waiter explained that I could use those microphones to chat with the women if I felt the need. Behind the glass, each girl wore a number and most wore bright, sincere smiles. I selected girl number 208 only because she seemed the least concerned with business and was actually laughing with her sidekick. I knew she would be fun.

After my selection, the waiter connected me to girl number 208, who introduced herself as Neet Diane. (Actually spelled Nit Dian but pronounced Neet Diane.) She had an infectious smile, which she enthusiastically

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