The Doctor Fish

Somewhere in my scouring of travel magazines over the past year, I stumbled upon an article about a breakthrough foot therapy gaining a cult following. The treatment had somewhat of an underground mystique—I got the sense you could only partake in the service after being ushered down a dusty alley and through the drapes of a smoky doorway by a small man named Lee with a Fu Man Chu. As the kind of guy that will always follow Lee down an alley, I was instantly intrigued. I stored the article somewhere in the hazy recesses of my mind and determined to keep an open eye for Lee, the alley, or if lucky, both at the same time.

As it turned out, the mysterious foot therapy found us, rather ironically in the midst of one Kuala Lumpur’s many brightly lit shopping malls. No smoke, no drapes, no Fu Man Chu, just a huge vinyl sign that read: CUTE FISH SPA.

For five Ringgit (equivalent to $1.50 USD), you can submit yourself to one of the most bazaar sensations imaginable for ten titillating minutes. The Malays have discovered a toothless fish that exists for one purpose alone—to devour the callused and dead skin that clings to the soles of your feet. When you plunge your sockless toes into their tank they attack you with the veraciousness of piranhas. A foot frenzy ensues. They nibble and peck, suck and gnaw. The bigger ones chew. It takes all you have not to squirm out of your skin. Jeannie squirmed right out of hers just watching me get the treatment. Kelly was brave enough to offer up a big toe. That was all the doctor fish could get out of her.

Amazingly, I departed the CUTE FISH SPA walking on a cloud. The stuff is gold. I’ve been working Shomit for the past two days to import the concept to the states. The Doctor Fish idea has legs, er, fins.