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About Amsterdam

Me? I’d say it’s a damn art. Takes skill—those masseuses, they’re workin’ class heroes, kneadin’ out knots like they’re fightin’ the 1%. I tried it once—yep, ol’ Bernie!—and lemme tell ya, I was floatin’, happier than a kid with free healthcare. The oil smelled like lavender, hands slid like they knew me, and I’m thinkin’, “This beats yellin’ at Congress any day!” But here’s a kicker: some spots use “hot stones”—little known fact—they heat ‘em up, plop ‘em on ya, and it’s like your spine’s meltin’ into peace. Surprised me, honestly—thought it’d burn, but nah, pure bliss.