Dana Foot Massage

So not a fan of this place. Came here to relax and what did I get? I was hurting so much more then when I went in. Not only that but I seriously should say I felt like they were oh so inappropriate. I swear do not get a the old man to massage you. Trust me you might have to tell him to pay you.

New owners not good like prior ones. Not honest on their pricing, and their massages. Cheat you on the price. Beware!

My feet have been hurting and so I decided it was time for my first foot massage. Serene Thai Massage is highly recommended on Unilocal but they are closed for a couple weeks for remodeling, so I tried Dana. When I walked in, the two guys there went on in their own language for a while and I didn’t know if I was going to get served, but I just smiled and they eventually directed me to the menu. $ 20 for an hour foot massage seemed like a good choice for a newbie. Changed into baggy shorts and soaked in a hot bucket for ten minutes with a cup of tea in a nice lounge chair. The massage was great, lots of deep knuckles and good pain, a solid 25 minutes per foot, ending up with a short knee and calf rub. I tipped the guy $ 5, judging from his reaction I don’t think that is typical. It seemed to relieve some of my foot pain, my feet feel… good? I will definitiely give this another try.

My funky cold medina mom took me to this place to «relax.» Sometimes that woman’s too hip for her own daughter’s good.
I was led upstairs to a room that was dressed with Asia in mind (cramped with strange trinkets to fawn luxury and sparkle). It had 5 «lazy boy» style leather chairs packed in it. I was seated in one and immediately given a ~5 gallon wooden vat, lined with a plastic bag, to dunk my feet into. My American toes traced outlines on the surface of the hot water, to which the head minder said, «put your feet in. After one minute no hurt.»
I’m always game for pain, so I plunged away and thus began my yin yang massage of finding relaxation through pain to find relaxation to find pain to find relaxation.
I must’ve reeked of unbroken «Asian-​ness» to the head minder. While I was relaxing from the pain of the heated water, I heard loud measured footsteps ascending the staircase.
The steps stopped at the door way, and the head minder called out, «Ahh, Mr. Wong, take this one here.»
I opened my eyes and shrieked like an American girl. Scary, «Drunken Boxer» uncle had stepped out from a dusty VHS tape to give me a foot massage.
Mr. Wong dumped even hotter! water in the vat and covered my eyes with a white towel. Fleeting visions of Alcatraz type tourists oohing and ahhhing as they experienced Guantanamo experiences went through my head.
He began at my neck working his way up my scalp, to my face. He pushed my pressure points with the accuracy of a ninja and the stench of a drunken master. His fingers pressing against my face stank fittingly of cigarettes.
I breathed deeply through my mouth and released all my American squeamishness. I relaxed into his kneading and perfect pressure piercings. He raked my scalp with his fingers. With the delicacy of a maestro, he pressed hard where it was fitting, and deftly swept over my eyes. After 30 mins of stanky bliss, Mr. Wong readjusted the towel over my face and walked to the other side of the chair.
He plopped my right foot out of the hot water and wrapped it like a seasoned midwife in a swaddle of towel. After drying my left foot, he greased up his hands and began to press and feel my feet. It was uncomfortably intimate. But after awhile I again inhaled deeply and let go of all squeamishness.
Then he moved to my calves. I have this muscle on the side of both calves, very close to my shin, that always cramps up on me. Mr. Wong was winding down the calf massage when I took the towel off my head and tried to explain in Korean, English, broken Chinese to focus more on that tight muscle. The head minder hurried towards me and after it telephone gamed around to him with one of head minder’s eyebrows raised, I knew I probably should have kept my stupid big fat American mouth shut.
He gave me a tilted look of «naughty runaway panther has come back for more?»
I gave him my best haughty look of, «bring it.»
He reached over and put the towel back over my head and sat back down. I could hear him rubbing his hands together for like 2 minutes.
It is a testament to my stupidity that I remained seated.
He placed two hot-​iron palms on the side of my left calf and grabbed my tight muscle and began plucking it like he was fucking Jimi Hendrix. It felt like he was lifting it up and running a finger up and down underneath it. I was screaming in hoots to which he said, «tickling, you?» and delved in all the harder. I held my toweled head between my hands and screamed.
Why didn’t I just have him stop? I believe that I started to like the extreme relief I felt every time I kicked a calf out of his grasp. I have enough residual Asian in me to appreciate the philosophy of «long life can be achieved through great pain.»
It’s been a full 18 hours since this event and you know. My feet. My calves. My neck. My scalp. All have never felt so relaxed and fully functioning.
I was originally going to give this place 4 stars b/​c of Mr. Wong’s cigarette stench. But I know I’m going to go again. I know I’m going to ask for Mr. Wong again. And I know I’m going to point out that tight muscle again.
And you know what? For breaking Naughty Panther, drunken master gets all 5 stars.

Just went here today. Go upstairs for the typical one hour foot massage. A few points of interest… the sink where they get the water to soak your feet is in the same room. kind of distracting. Also no private room or TV entertainment. Massage was good though.