There is nothing more luxurious than a day wholly to yourself in the middle of the week. So when we made plans with our father on his vacation day off, we texted that morning, “Standby, making plans. Text you in an hour.” Of course we were up to no good. After railroading through a cancellation in the Bliss roster, we texted: “Putting you in a Blissage 3pm. Am scheduled for a Triple Oxygen Facial 3:15”.
So father/daughter spa day was on, and we made plans for lunch at the rooftop pool prior. Absolutely nuts over the ceviche in the hotel restaurant, we opted for the ceviche tacos and a Sauv Blanc (indulgence day, remember?) while Dad chose the fish tacos and a Chardonnay. It was a sunny, warm day and the views breezed for miles. “This is so nice,” he said. We agreed. We live in the same city, separated by the gulf of two freeways and a ferocious amount of street congestion. But that’s hardly an excuse.
Lunch was a fast, leisurely two hours, and then we blew in to Bliss. “Checking in,” we said, introducing our father. “Let’s get you flip-flops!” they offered, ushering him backstage. We asked if they might offer him some Youth samples, then headed to the locker room to grab a quick steam shower and sip a glass of their complimentary champagne. Our facial was soothing, leaning on the Porefector gadget for extractions, an oxygen peel, and a blast of pure oxygen from which we kept stealing small huffs.
We met in the hotel lobby, fresh-faced and tension-free. “Thank you sweetie! I feel great.” “Did they offer you champagne?” we asked, the concerned host. “They did!” he laughed. “I didn’t have time to drink it before so I saved it in my locker for after.” (Ahh, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…) And we walked outside for the short drive home, promising to see each other soon, promising that we would do this again sometime. And certain we would.