//------------------------------// // Hidden in the mists // Story: School of Hard Knocks // by Hoopy McGee //------------------------------// I stumbled into the spa, thanks to Plum’s eager headbutt to my backside, and was immediately assaulted by the smells and sights that were everything I dreaded they would be and more. Soft contours abounded in the receiving area, which was an immaculate white with pastel accents. On either side of the outer door in the waiting area was a row of chairs, all currently empty, and on the other side of the room was a large desk, framed by curtained doorways to either side. The receptionist was smiling happily from behind a desk that was a nightmare in chrome, the gleaming metal sending glaring daggers of light directly into my eyes. There was a vase on the desk that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen. It was purple and white porcelain and crammed so full of flowers that a family of four could eat off of it for a week. Next to the desk was more chrome, this time in the form of a set of shelves holding various bottles and jars of what I could only assume were “high-end” beauty products designed specifically to trick gullible mares out of their hard-earned bits. Plum had already wandered over there and was looking them over with interest. I aimed a scowl around the room, my nose wrinkling in disgust as the smell nearly overwhelmed me. It was a mélange of soaps, powders, shampoos and hair spray. I guessed that they were supposed to smell flowery and feminine, and maybe they did if you only smelled them one at a time. Getting hit with all of them at once was like a flower cart had crashed into a chemistry lab after an experiment had gone terribly wrong. Against a wall was a large set of lockers without locks, and that’s where we we were supposed to store our saddlebags. I stomped over there, my bad mood sparking off of me and going completely unnoticed by Plum; the filly was too busy rubbernecking with a slightly dazed smile on her muzzle. After we’d all stowed our bags, Mulberry wandered over and displayed her coupon to the middle-aged mare behind the receiving desk. “Very good!” the receptionist said with a beaming smile that got on my nerves. I glared at her but she didn’t seem to notice. “What package were you thinking of selecting?” The receptionist’s smile became a little strained as Mulberry and my mom entered a long and whispered conference as they stared at the prices listed on a board to the receptionist’s left. While the mares discussed what package I’d be forced into, Plum wandered off to look at the potted plants dotting the small space, and it occurred to me too late that I could have used that time to make my escape. “What’s included in the Deluxe?” Mulberry asked eventually. I glanced at the board and snorted, torn between amusement and disgust. The plain old “Deluxe” package was on the lower end of packages. More expensive options were “Super Deluxe”, “Luxurious Deluxe” and “Princess Deluxe”. Seems like almost everything here was “Deluxe” in some way. “Ah, yes!” the receptionist said. She sounded happy, though she was probably just glad the mares had finally made up their minds. “That’s one of our most popular packages. That comes with a quick rinse along with a mane and coat cleaning, followed by a soak in the hot tub, then by a rubdown, a hoof trim and cleaning, and a good brushing. You’ll feel like a new mare when it’s done!” The moms had another whispered conference over that and apparently agreed to go that route. Mulberry and my mother brought out their bits, both of them wincing a little when they dropped the money on the counter. The receptionist pressed a button under her desk. A bell rang somewhere in the background, and a moment later the curtain on the right side of the desk twitched open. The two mares who stepped out into the reception area were that certain kind of gorgeous that would have dropped my jaw back before I decided to waltz through a patch of poison joke. Now, though, they just reminded me of what I no longer was. They introduced themselves, but I missed their names. I was suddenly too busy looking around and wondering if it was too late to find something to hide behind. We were led past several small rooms on our way to our own private shower room for four. The shower area was tiled in a pale powdery blue, each tile roughly the size and shape of a hoof, designed so that they tessellated together without a gap. Dotting the area were four shower heads, each with a small bench under it that we were instructed to sit on. The attendants split up as we each made our way to our respective benches. I lucked out, with the slightly prettier one helping me and Plum while the other still gorgeous one started pampering the moms, helping to rinse their manes and tails before lathering them up with shampoo. The unicorn working with me and Plum filled up a bucket of steaming water. She dumped the bucket on a squealing Plum Pudding’s head, washing away most of the playground dirt and grass embedded in her mane and coat. While that was going on, I watched my mother out of the corner of my eye. She looked lost and out of place, moving stiffly at the unicorn attendant’s instructions. She had a desperate smile on her muzzle and panic in her eyes as she took her place under a shower head. Mulberry seemed to pick up on my mother’s anxiety, talking to her softly and kindly. I silently thanked the purple mare for making the effort. Our unicorn attendant was a young mare, probably still in college. She was slim and bright-eyed, with a pinkish-white mane and a light red coat. Her cutie mark was of two interlocked hearts. I’d never regretted being changed into a filly more than I did right then. Though even if I’d been a stallion at the time, she would have been so far out of my league I’d have needed a telescope to see her. But even though that gorgeous mare would probably have rejected me, I still would have asked her out. “Oh my, you two are such a mess,” our attendant said to me as she filled up her bucket with steaming water once again. “Let’s get you cleaned up!” As she levitated the bucket I shot her with my best glare. “I can do this myself,” I growled at her. The unicorn gave me a warm smile and then dumped the bucket of hot water over me anyway. I clenched my jaw. Of course she ignored me. Who listens to a little filly? Plum giggled somewhere off to my left. “You look like a sea monster,” she said, probably because my dripping mane was hanging down over my face. I gave the comment all the response it deserved by keeping my mouth shut. I grit my teeth, making a resolution. I decided that I wasn’t going to say a word. I’d put up with this crap in total silence. My mother and the Puddings could drag me to this place, but they couldn’t make me enjoy it. And I’d be damned if I was going to say or do anything that gave them even the slightest indication that I was having anything less than a miserable time. My resolve to keep quiet lasted until the spa attendant decided to start lathering shampoo into my mane. When she hit the lump behind my ear, I yelped and jumped. “Watch where you put your damned hooves!” “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see this little bump there.” The mare sounded genuinely contrite. “Cinnamon, language!” my mother scolded from somewhere off in the distance. I couldn’t see a damned thing right then and didn’t bother trying. Even if my mane hadn’t been hanging over my face, I had to screw my eyes shut to avoid getting shampoo in them. “Your daughter has… um… quite the vocabulary,” Mulberry said. “Has she always cursed like that?” “Oh, no,” Plum said happily from her own corner where she was waiting for her turn with the attendant. “It’s usually much worse than that.” “Um. Well. You know how it is, haha.” My mother sounded shrill and jittery, and more than a little uncomfortable. “I try to scold her about it, but that just seems to encourage her.” I sighed and mentally urged my mom to calm down. She’d been acting strangely this whole time, displaying more nervous ticks than a room full of clocks. I recognized several from my first childhood and made a note of several new ones she seemed to have picked up since then. With the way her eyes flitted around constantly while her ears were pasted flat down on her head, it was like she was expecting to be pounced on by a tiger at any moment. I tried to remember the last time she’d spent any time outside of the house. Except for shopping, I couldn’t think of a single time since I’d come back to town. I decided that, if it got my mother out of the house and socializing a little, maybe a spa trip wasn’t all that bad. I’d still rank it in the top five things I’d rather cut my leg off than do, but she spent too much time indoors. “Well, she’s been a good friend to Plum,” Mulberry said. “And to me, now that I think of it.” Guilt slammed into me again, reminding me that the entire Pudding family was at risk because I had to be a nosy bastard. A growing restlessness stirred in me, urging me to just leave. I still hadn’t come up with anything resembling a plan, and this spa trip was just another distraction to keep me from thinking about it. “Stand up, please,” the attendant said to me. She was holding up the bottle of shampoo in her magical grip. “I’d like to work on your tail, now.” “I’ll do that myself,” I said, opening my eyes in order to give the mare a level look. “Come on, Cinnamon,” Plum whined at me. “Getting pampered is the whole point!” “It’s humiliating!” That came out louder than I had intended. My outburst startled the attendant at first. After a few seconds she relaxed and smiled, placing the bottle by my hooves. “I understand completely,” she said. “Just ask for help if you need me.” Plum rolled her eyes at me as I reached back and started to shampoo my tail. “You don’t have to be such a baby about it.” An annoyed grunt was my only reply. How could I explain it to her? I was a grown stallion. Being pampered by these pretty young things here in this spa should have been a dream come true. Celestia knows I’d actually had a dream or two like that when I was a teenager. But as a filly? The humiliation twisted in my guts. I kept on cleaning my tail. The fight had left it packed with dirt and bits of leaves. I even found a twig in there, which I pulled out with my teeth and dropped to the floor. Plum made happy little noises over in her corner as she monopolized all of our spa attendant’s attention. Meanwhile, the moms had continued talking. I don’t think I was supposed to overhear, but the acoustics in that place meant that I heard every word. “She’s an odd filly,” Mulberry said softly to my mother. “Talking to her is sometimes almost like talking to a grown up.” “She’s always been unique!” my mom said, then very obviously forced a laugh. I rolled my eyes. I found myself hoping she would just relax and enjoy herself, but all the mental urging in the world on my part wasn’t having any impact. “Does she have any brothers or sisters?” I saw Plum’s ears perk up and one of her eyes crack open at her mother’s question. I realized that I’d never told her much about my brothers. “She… She has five brothers,” my mom said as their unicorn attendant magically lathered up their manes and tails. “All much… much older.” I snorted. It was so tempting to tell Mulberry that my mother was lying. I was the oldest by a few years. “Five!” Mulberry’s eyebrows went up at that. “Five colts. I can’t imagine! That must have been difficult.” “Oh… well… you know…” Mom rubbed her fetlock against her opposite leg again, looking away. The moms’ attendant interrupted their conversation, then. “Would you like me to turn on the showers?” “Yes, please,” Mulberry said, and my mother murmured something that might have been an affirmative. I turned on my shower myself, turning the heat up until it was just shy of scalding. The heat loosened my muscles and eased aches I hadn’t been aware of before. I stood there for a few minutes, barely moving, just letting the water wash the grit and shampoo off of me. “Need some help, sweetie?” the pink-maned attendant asked me. I opened my eyes and blinked up at her. Her eyes were a deep lavender that I could feel myself falling into and, in spite of the hot water, I shivered. “I’m fine.” My answer was curt and short. Maybe even angry, though I didn’t mean for it to be. I reached out and twisted the knob on the shower. Her smile slipped a little and I cursed myself. “This way to the bath, then.” She still sounded pleasant, though more detached than before. I sighed and tried to remind myself that none of this was her fault. I followed a dripping Plum to the next room. This one had several large tiled baths in it. There were maybe a dozen mares already inside, sitting in the steaming water that came up to their necks. There was more than one conversation going on, the happy chatter rendered unintelligible as the conversations bounced off of the walls, merging into a dull babble that was echoed by the sounds of dripping water. The solitary kid’s tub was empty, which meant that Plum and I got it to ourselves. She settled in with a happy sigh then flicked water at me with a hoof as I hesitated at the edge. “Come on, Cinnamon. It’s not going to hurt you, and it actually feels nice.” She cocked her head at me while I stood outside the tub. “You’re not afraid, are you?” I grunted in annoyance and, even though I knew from her smug smile that she was manipulating me, I lowered myself in. Damn, what can I say? She was right. The water felt incredible. “I’ll be back in a short while,” our attendant said with a chipper smile. “Try to relax, okay?” For a few seconds, there was a feeling of peace and calm. The voices from the distant mares was reduced to an indistinct babble of white noise. Plum broke the silence with a laugh. “I can’t believe we actually managed to get you into the spa,” she said. I glowered at her. “I can’t, either,” I muttered. “You didn’t put up as much of a fight as I expected,” she said. She grinned, tilting her head and tapping her chin with a hoof. “Hmm. Could it be that the rough and tough Cinnamon Swirl is actually having a good time?” “Don’t get your hopes up,” I said flatly. I submerged myself until only my nostrils and the top of my head were above water, then shut my eyes. Plum sighed happily across from me, and I heard the water slosh around as she rearranged herself for a few seconds before finally settling down. I let the heat sink into me, warming me to the core. I kept my eyes closed and tried to tune out the distant chatter of the mares in the deeper adult tubs. This could actually be what I needed: time to think. I let my mind drift as I examined each piece of the puzzle, trying to think of some way, any way, to get the Pudding family clear. Nothing came to mind. I sighed with frustration. The lump behind my ear was throbbing and sore, and my mind wandered back to school. Retribution from the bullies was yet another thing to worry about. I wondered if taking Vanilla down a couple of notches was enough, or if she’d still be coming after Plum. I wondered what I could do to protect her if I wasn’t there, once I became a stallion again. My molars ground together when I thought of Plum, on her own in school, facing down the bully and her crony. I knew that Miss Persimmon meant well, but her not being on the playground during the fight had me seriously doubting whether or not I could trust her to keep Plum safe. Thinking of the mare reminded me of class. I was slowly losing my mind in there. The coursework was too simple, rehashing things I already knew. Math, history… Heck, the only thing I could really work on was my penmanship. That was just as bad as it ever was. I amused myself briefly thinking that I could use my distinctively bad writing to identify myself to anypony who knew me. It was a solution I probably wouldn’t need, not with the cure hopefully on the way. I shook my head to clear the sleepiness that the hot water and humid air was draping over me. As bad as school was, the smugglers were far worse. With any luck, the only one I’d have to deal with was Chains. But I couldn’t count on that. I needed information. I needed to know everypony who was involved, who in the Hoofington PD were on their payroll, where they met, and the real name of Mister Sunshine. Mister Sunshine. I snorted derisively. I’d already checked the town directory. Nopony named “Mister Sunshine” or anything like that was listed. Not that I expected to find him there, since that was most likely a pseudonym. Not that it was unusual for there to be a pony named “Sunshine” or something similar, but thanks to Celestia’s popularity as the Sun Princess, they were almost exclusively mares. I came back to my only plan so far that had a chance of working: the sacrifice play. Make myself known to the smugglers, claim full responsibility for what happened in the warehouse, and let the chips fall where they may. I was just a little filly at the moment. Maybe they would even let me go. And maybe I could change back to a stallion just by wishing really hard. I knew it wasn’t likely to work. Chains knew there were two of us. He’d want to know who was there with me. Not to mention, he’d want his revenge. And he wouldn’t tell his cohorts about me, since he was lying to them in the first place about who was in the warehouse that night. If the rest of the smugglers suspected Tapioca, then the Puddings were still a target. I was better off using myself as bait… The thought had come out of nowhere. My breathing stopped for a few seconds as my brain latched onto the idea. Bait in a trap. I’d be able to get Chains’ attention, sure enough. But how to get the others? How to get them away from the Puddings? Gears clicked in my head as I mulled it over. The half-formed plans I’d considered and discarded earlier started matching up and meshing together. This was the piece I’d needed. Not taking the heat myself, not finding their base and sneaking in, not gathering evidence and exposing them to the police and hoping I wouldn’t run across a department full of corrupt cops… A trap. Or, more precisely, a sting. My heart raced. Details still needed to be ironed out, but now I had the shape of it. And I would need help, and lots of it. Still, I knew what the first step would be. It was then that the spa attendant came back and jollied us out of the tub. Fluffy white towels, wrapped in her magical aura, draped themselves over Plum and me, rubbing vigorously in spite of my cursing protests. When we were dry, or at least mostly dry, the towels were whisked away. I glanced over at Plum and couldn’t contain a bark of laughter. Even on the best of days her mane was a messy pile of curls that ran down her neck. It was still a mess, only now it was frizzed out to twice its normal size. “What, you stick your hoof in a light socket?” I asked her. “Ha ha, you’re a laugh riot,” she said with an eye-roll. “Like you look any better!” I glanced in a mirror and snorted at the sight of my dandelion mane sticking out in all directions. “True enough,” I admitted. We were ushered to a different room along with our mothers, who had their own towels still wrapped around their manes and tails. The two mares were talking softly to each other. Actually, I take that back. Mulberry was talking a slow but steady stream, which my mother answered with the occasional noise of interest or a short answer. She still hadn’t relaxed much. As much as I wanted to feel some satisfaction over that, I just couldn’t. I wanted her to make some friends. Maybe if she got her own life, she would leave mine alone. The room we were led into had four mares already in it, each with an apron and a hairnet over their manes and tails. In the pockets of their aprons were metal instruments that I had to assume were implements of torture. Several uncomfortable looking benches were scattered around the place. “If you don’t mind,” our attendant said, “please hop on up into the hooficure bench.” I resigned myself to my fate. My hooves needed a trim anyway, and they’re a pain in the ass to do yourself. It was either this, or my mom would probably end up doing it for me. It was a toss-up between which would be more humiliating. I glanced at what the others were doing and mimicked them, climbing up onto the bench and lying down on my side, sticking my hooves off the edge where the hooficure mare could reach them. The bench was almost as uncomfortable as I’d expected. One of the hoof care attendants, a stocky mare with a greying mane, grabbed my back left hoof with a practiced ease and no-nonsense attitude. She brought out a pick, digging in to the sole and prying out bits of grit and sand that had remained in the hoof in spite of my best efforts to keep them clean. Well, close to my best efforts and relatively clean, if I’m going to be honest. While the hoof care attendant got started on our trims, our personal attendant came back out. She was armed with a brush, a comb, and a determined look in her eye as she prepared herself to attack Plum’s unruly mane in an attempt to try to bring it back under some semblance of control. After the pick came the brush, cleaning the sole and the frog with a gentle scraping that had me gritting my teeth while Plum, undergoing similar torture next to me, started breaking out in uncontrollable giggles. “You have to keep your leg still, sweetie,” Plum’s hoof attendant said gently. “Sorry,” Plum replied contritely. “I’ll try.” It took about three seconds before she went back to her giggling and twitching. The same routine was followed on each hoof: first the picking, then the brushing. And, once they were all clean, the rasping. The metal file came out, scraping quickly and efficiently along my hoof wall and setting my teeth on edge. I ground my molars together while Plum was making squeaking noises and trying not to squirm on her bench. “Hey, Plum,” I said. When she looked at me I grinned and said, “Hoof trimming sucks when you’re ticklish, doesn’t it?” “I’m not ticklish!” she protested. “Sure, you’re not,” I said, rolling my eyes. Plum scowled at me and, while she might have still twitched from time to time, she stopped squeaking and managed to mostly keep still. So at least that much worked out. I leaned back with a smile at Plum’s protests and occasional yelp of pain as the comb snagged on a snarl. I didn’t even mind that much when the attendant eventually moved to me, tugging her comb through my mane and tail. “Make sure to give her pretty little pigtails,” Plum called from her bench. I glared over at her grinning face before looking up at the attendant. “Just straight is fine, thanks,” I said. “Pigtails sounds cute!” my mom called from her own bench. “I think you should get pigtails!” “I’m not getting pigtails!” My shout echoed around the room. Things came to a halt as everypony stared at me. “Sheesh, fine,” Plum muttered sourly after a few awkward seconds. “No pigtails for Cinnamon Swirl, got it.” Activity resumed, slowly at first but soon getting back to normal. The hooficure was completed at about the same time as the attendant finished with my mane, thankfully leaving it straight. The hooficure mare stepped back and eyed her work with a satisfied nod. I took a look and grunted. It was a good job. Too good to even be annoyed with. That is, until she asked me the next question. “What color polish would you like?” “You bring polish near my hooves and I’ll dump it on your head,” I snapped. The mare’s eyes went from hurt and surprised to angry. The attendant who had been brushing my mane stopped with a little gasp, and I realized I’d gone too far. It wasn’t her fault I was stuck in this situation. “You did a good job,” I said. “Let’s not ruin it with polish, okay?” “Oh, just get clear, Cinnamon,” Plum said, trying to make peace. “It keeps your hoof from chipping.” “I like chipping,” I said. I ignored the hooficure mare’s shudder. “It gives my hooves a more rugged look.” She glared at me for a few seconds, her mouth working as if she was thinking of saying something. Eventually she just walked away, shaking her head muttering something about “barbarians” and “monster brats”. “Stand, please,” my attendant said to me. If I wasn’t mistaken, her voice had lost any attempt at being pleasant. I got to my hooves and glanced back at her. “Is there a problem?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Yes,” the gorgeous mare said as she started running a flat brush over my coat with more force than needed. “May Flowers is a kind and wonderful mare, and she doesn’t deserve to have a little filly be mean to her.” I looked again after the retreating form of May, the hooficure mare. I grimaced, realizing she was right. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” The brushing lightened up. “Don’t apologize to me, little miss,” the attendant said. I looked back at her. “What’s your name, again?” She hesitated, then gave me a short smile. “Heartshine.” “Heartshine,” I repeated. I’d definitely have to look her up after I got the cure for the poison joke. “If I promise to apologize to her, will you go easier with that brush?” She stopped brushing to stare at me for a few seconds, then reached over and ruffled my mane. As she brushed the hairs back into place, she smiled and said, “Yes, and thank you.” Hell with it. At least I got her name. It was worth the humiliation. Then a terrible idea occurred to me. “You have a special somepony, Heartshine?” I asked. “I suppose you could say that,” she said with a musical laugh as she unknowingly crushed my heart. “My husband and I are celebrating our third anniversary next month.” “Congratulations,” I said sourly. “Thank you!” she said with a happy smile. I glanced around, noticing with some surprise that I was the first one done. Plum was still getting her hooves rasped, and the moms didn’t seem to be in any kind of a hurry to get done. “I’ll be right back,” I said to the room at large. Nopony replied, probably too caught up in their own ministrations to bother. As I walked, I noticed something. As much as I hated to admit it, May Flowers really had done a great job. You don’t even notice how uncomfortable your hooves get as they grow out, not until you trim them and all that discomfort goes away all at once. If I was going to be honest, I couldn’t remember them ever feeling better. Especially since I usually tried to trim them myself. I never got them even, and usually ended up feeling slightly lopsided until the edges wore down. Maybe there was something to this spa thing after all. You’d never drag that admission out of me, though. Not even with a team of windigoes led by an Ursa Major. I walked back out into the hallway but didn’t see any sign of the mare. However, I did see a sign on a door that stated “Employees Only.” I ignored the sign, pushed the door open and looked around the room. What I saw surprised me. This employee area had none of the glitz and glam of the rest of the place. It was rough and faded, the carpet looking ratty and tattered, with badly painted green lockers against a wall and a card table that had seen better days standing in the middle of the room. Against one wall there was a rough couch, patched and frayed, occupied by a lone mare lying on it and reading the paper. There was also a refrigerator and a sink set into a counter. It looked like I’d wandered into the spa’s lunch area. May was standing with her back towards me and chatting with two other employees, both looking so much like her it was as if they’d all come from the same factory where they specialized in producing older stocky mares. From the sounds of it, May was griping to the other two about something. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that might be. “You can’t be in here, sweetie,” a voice said. I looked up and saw a unicorn mare in a smock staring down at me. “I’m looking for May,” I said. “I need to talk to her.” May heard her name and turned around. Annoyance chased the initial surprise off of her face when she saw me. “What do you want?” she asked, a scowl settling over her features. “To apologize,” I said. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.” “Oh,” she said. Then she added, “Ah.” “Aww…” the other mares crooned as they looked at me with wide eyes and big smiles. That immediately got my hackles up, but I clamped down on that feeling. The last thing I needed to do was go off again right after apologizing. “You really did do a great job,” I continued. “My hooves have never felt better, even when my mom did them.” I shrugged, adding by way of explanation, “I just don’t like girly stuff like polish.” “Hmmph.” May held herself stiffly for a moment, then her face softened. “Well, I guess I can understand. I went through a phase like that when I was a filly, too.” “I should get back to my mom before she misses me,” I said. “We good?” “Yeah,” May said with a nod. She looked pleased, a small smile on her face. “I think we’re good. Thanks, hon.” I shrugged and offered a little smile of my own as I left the employee lunchroom. As soon as the door closed behind me, I frowned. Something felt wrong. Here I was, stuck in the body of a tiny little filly and dragged into a spa, where I was pushed into all sorts of frilly nonsense. I’d been embarrassed and humiliated in front of a gorgeous mare, a married mare at that. And to top it all of, I’d been forced to apologize to somepony I’d never wanted to interact with in the first place. After all of that, I should have been furious. I should have been grinding my teeth and looking for something to lash out at. Don’t get me wrong, I was plenty annoyed. I hated that I’d been dragged through all of this. What I didn’t expect was that, underneath all of that, there was a small bubble of contentment. I didn’t get that at all. As I walked back to where Plum and the moms waited for me, memories from today replayed in my head. Plum’s giggles and happy sighs, Mom’s awkward attempts at meeting Mulberry halfway in conversation. The fact that Mulberry was even trying to engage my mom in the first place, awkward twitches and all. Even May’s little smile when she’d accepted my apology. The scowl forming on my muzzle was more due to habit than how I felt. Quietly, I said to myself, “You’re getting soft, Cinnamon.” I shook my head as I kept on walking back to the others. It was time to wrap up this spa trip and head home.