Destination: Spa Castle

I stumbled on Spa Castle on the advice from a friend who lives in Manhattan, a guy who rarely ventures from his own neighborhood for other parts of the island, much less College Point, Queens. For Spa Castle, though, he makes an exception. The website - which describes the experience as "100,000 square feet of luxurious serenity" - makes the place look like the ethereal love child of a German nightclub and the '90s computer game Myst, meaning I had to try it out just as soon as I could contrive an excuse to go. 

That excuse arrived on Saturday afternoon, when I somehow pulled a muscle in my quadriceps while playing soccer. Four days later it still hurt, and though I wasn’t totally sure whether soaking my leg in a vat of hot water would necessarily help, I figured it would at least be better than my current practice of completely ignoring it.

Departure time (from Little Neck LIRR): 6:10 p.m.

Arrival Time: 6:44 p.m. 

Miles: 7.62

The Ride: Tuesday's weather was absolutely perfect for being outdoors, meaning Joe Michael's Mile was teeming with all manner of cyclists, walkers, joggers and strollers. The scene along Little Neck Bay almost perfectly mirrored the one depicted in Georges Seurat's famous painting - give or take a bustle or two - and though the crowds were forced to weave around one another on the narrow path, it was nice to see so many people out enjoying the magnificent evening. 

Google Maps demanded that I part with the waterside view at 14th Avenue, which wasn't so unpleasant. The road took me through a quiet neighborhood of craftsman houses, the silence broken only by the odd, strangely fast-moving bus that would occasionally come hurtling out of nowhere. 

The only minor hiccup occurred at the intersection of Cross Island Parkway, when I got momentarily turned around and mysteriously appeared on 15th Avenue. No sooner had a I regained my footing and resumed my ride when, much to my shock, I found I'd arrived at my destination. Spa Castle - which, from the outside, looks a bit more like Spa Best Western or Spa HoJo - sprang suddenly from a row of warehouses, which in turn, sprang from the quiet neighborhood I'd been admiring only moments before. 

The fact that it's so out of the way makes Spa Castle an especially good destination for biking. Since the closest subway stop is more than three miles away on Main Street in Flushing, less-savvy commuters are forced to drive, or wait for one of the spa's shuttles, which arrive at the subway at 30 minute intervals. As it happened, I just locked my bike on a decaying stop sign and went to town. 

The Destination: For awhile after the movie "Avatar" was released, a certain subset of devoted fans claimed that the movie caused them depression, forcing them to grapple with the reality that they would never be allowed to live in a world where they got to be really tall and blue and wear tribal jewelry. 

Entering - and subsequently being forced out of - Spa Castle four hours later had a similar effect on me. 

The corporate exterior of Spa Castle is far and away its most mundane feature. Upon entering the front lobby, a nice person at the front desk will relieve you of your $35 ($45 on weekends), handing you in exchange a map and watch, which acts as everything from your locker key to a credit card, enabling you to consume everything from sushi to up to three ill-advised cocktails on the rooftop terrace.

Once inside the locker room - which are divided by sex - you are issued a baggy cotton shorts set and, inexplicably, a tooth brush. Men are given a blue and white set, a reasonable color scheme by any standard. The women's set, on the other hand, are a jarring combination of bright orange and pink, giving everyone in the locker room the appearance of inmates at a really groovy high security prison. 

The rest of the first floor is composed of what the Spa Castle's website calls simply an "indoor spa," though a better description may be "Asian-inspired grotto/nightclub." A large room of sleek dark stone and LED lights contains around a dozen pools of varying temperatures, as well as wet and dry saunas and a collection of showers. Massages and mud baths are given (for a price) on one side of the room, in full view of anyone relaxing in the tubs.

"In full view" is, in fact, the best way of explaining the indoor spa. Clothing is not only not optional, it's not permitted, and anyone who attempts to enter in so much as a bikini will be chased out by spa staff. I found the experience strangely therapeutic, but if sharing a pool with a naked stranger is not your cup of tea, Spa Castle has no shortage of other, more modest attractions. 

Opposite genders are allowed to reunite on the second floor, which houses a buffet and large open, eating area. Groups of friends congregated in their ridiculous spa-issued get-ups, luxuriating in large leather armchairs and chatting or gnawing on chicken legs.

Steps away, more saunas are gathered in the form of little huts, each boasting a different temperature and theme, like the gold hut, which is lined with actual gold plates, or the ice hut, which is really bloody cold. The whole thing is encircled by a peaceful, indoor creek, called the Cafe River.

A small, penned in area of floor is deemed "The Sleeping Area," and despite the presence of many plush leather sofas, many do just that, preferring to press their faces directly into the tile floor. Spa Castle is not a place for the image-conscious, and I enjoyed a brief siesta before heading up to the third and final level. 

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It was just around dusk when I arrived at the rooftop terrace. Teenagers splashed and played on the terrace pool, but the real attraction for me was the bade pool, a row of submerged tile recliners from which you can sip a cocktail and watch the mania ensue outdoors. 

Some might say $14 is too much to pay for a mango daiquiri. Normally, I would agree, but the gold hut and soft, worn-in shorts set had melted what was left of my common sense. I scanned my watch at the bar, and was given in return a giant plastic cup brimming with rum, a perfunctory splash of red dye and sugar added as an afterthought. 

I sank into a tile lounge chair just in time to watch the last of the August sun fade away into the night sky. The sound of Kanye West and adolescent shrieks filled my ears, and I tried to think whether there could possibly be a better way of passing a summer evening. Maybe it was the daiquiri, but I sure couldn't think of one. 

This ride is great for:

Thrill-seekers

Relaxation-seekers

Everyone else.