Touched By An Angel
Sydney Morning Herald
Wednesday September 14, 2005
Friday night at Pontoon Bar. Chest-proud men with oil-slick hair brood over glasses of vodka. Boozed-up office workers miscue pool shots, then laugh uproariously at their common lack of co-ordination. Tourists sit in silence, their backpacks strapped to their backs. There is sport on every wall.
Through it all, two young women, Megan Kells, 22, and Stacy York, 18, dart from table to table, chatting and occasionally pausing to fiddle with someone's upper back.York moves to a table of three men, and is quickly rebuffed. "One was married, the other had a girlfriend and the third one was single, but didn't have any money," she explains. "Sometimes people associate it with more."As 3 Minute Angels, Kells and York, both full-time students, spend their weekends touring the pubs and bars of Sydney, offering massages to patrons and generally making sure that the muscles of this city's drinkers are as loose and party-ready as possible.I've been sent out with York and Kells to see what the life of a 3 Minute Angel is like. And right now, it looks a bit like this: a drunk thirty-something man with a penchant for unsolicited touching and a quick way with a predictable one-liner."You generally get one a night like that," York says. "There's always one who says, after you've asked them whether they want a massage, 'Does it have a happy ending?' They think they're being really original, but it happens every night. And I'm like, 'I've heard that how many times before?'"Kells has had similar experiences: "Once, one guy took his shirt off before the massage and I'm like, 'No, you have to keep your shirt on.' Another guy said he wanted a sexual, erotic massage."Tonight must be an exception. Our tour takes in three venues - Pontoon, the James Squire Brewhouse and Slip Inn - and I count no more than one unsolicited arm around an angel's waist.That might be because it's early or because there's so much excellent sport to watch. When we arrive at the James Squire Brewhouse, half the people are crammed around a giant TV screen, each noisily staking their claim to be the next captain of the Australian cricket team, while the other half are busily tucking into platters of pork knuckle.Kells and York, who have been working as 3 Minute Angels for nine and three months respectively, say one of the unwritten rules of the job is that massages and eating don't mix. People don't want to have a stranger digging into their back when they're wrestling with a pile of pork.The work is commission based, which means there's constant pressure to get massages on the board. "We aim to get about $30 an hour," Kells says.Because payment is at the discretion of the customer, there's no knowing how many massages it will take to reach this figure. Some people tip extravagantly, while a miserable few pay nothing. "I average $10 to $20 [a massage], but sometimes you'll get a guy who's had a great week who gives you $50," York says.Kells was given $100 recently by a New Zealander who'd flown to Sydney to watch the Wallabies versus All Blacks match. He left the match early because the people around him were making too much noise, but was more impressed with the massage. "He said it was the best thing that had happened to him all trip," Kells says.All of which proves that not all the men the angels deal with are defective. In fact, York says, some of the most difficult customers are women. "You get bitchy girls," she says. "A lot of the swear words come from girls - usually when they're with their boyfriends."Kells thinks that's because the job of the 3 Minute Angel is misunderstood. "People often ask me if I'm a masseuse or a massage therapist and I always say, 'No, I'm a 3 Minute Angel'. Because that's what I am."
© 2005 Sydney Morning Herald
