Friday, January 28, 2011

All Roads Meet at the Salon

I'm getting my hair cut, minding my own business, when from across the room I hear, "Why he has all of Facebook tied up. I just can't do a thing on it." Somehow, I just don't think one of Mark Zuckerberg's few Facebook friends is sitting in this particular hair salon. Then her next comment confirms my suspicion. "He just hogs it all the time. It's just puppy love. I don't want to comment on something like that. It's their business."

Then her hair dresser responded as she started teasing her customer's newly bleached tresses, "Oh, I know, it's down right pitiful. Does he think she's com'in back?" "Pitiful? It's downright disgusting." "Did you see those pictures?" "Oh my God, they were so tacky." "And, what they said about each other." "But, I wasn't really looking at his page." "Oh, neither was I," the hair dresser said as she went back to perfecting the "Big" hair.

While this conversation was going on a very large "lady" wearing (what looked like) her pajama bottoms, a large bright green tee shirt, and converse basketball shoes with fizzy purple socks was seated across the aisle from me. From what I could glean from the conversation between her and her stylist, she wanted her curly red locks trimmed. This is when you want to inquire, "Excuse me, but did you realize what you were wearing when you left your house this morning?" I'm not sure what part of the outfit I was questioning - the PJ bottoms, the over sized chartreuse shirt, or the purple fuzzy socks.

As her stylist starting trimming her hair, the fashionista, commented, "I think I would like my hair colored." "What color?" "Red." "A different shade?" "No, just red." Having the same question I did, the stylist left and came back with a sample book of hair colors. When she showed it to her customer, with no hesitation, the customer chose red - as in fire engine red. "OK, red it is." Well, now the ensemble will be complete.

Meanwhile back in the corner of big hair, "Did I tell you I was driving out west next week? Well I am." "Where are you going?" "To the Grand Canyon." "All the way to Texas?" "Noooo, the Grand Canyon is in Arizona." "Well, that's right next door." "Well, to tell you the truth, I thought it was in California, but Butch showed me a map, and it's in Arizona." "Are you going to Las Vegas. I've always wanted to go there." "No, Butch said this was an educational trip for the kids, since the only place we've ever taken them was Dollywood." "Well, I hope they like it. You know, I don't think there any rides in the Grand Canyon."

About that time, a lady in her seventies with her nice Sunday dress came and sat in a chair in the reception area. The way she gently folded her hands on the purse in her lap and smiled reminded me of my Aunt Kat. All I could think was - what's a nice lady like you doing in a place like this? My stylist finished my hair. I paid her and as I was gathering my coat and bag, she waived the lady over to the chair. "Why Miss Virginia, you look lovely today. Are we going to do the usual, a cut and perm?" "Yes, please. Isn't the weather just awful out there. I've never been so cold in my life."

OK, within 400 square feet, I have experienced red neck/big hair hell as well as some looney character dressed like Sponge Bob, then in walks Miss Virginia, the church lady for her cut and perm.  I just wanted to escape with my sanity and without my hair being bleached blonde, died red, or with a blue rinse. This truly was a red, white, and blue place - only in America.  Well, with for some of us, only in the south.

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