Hair

Getting your hair done by a stylist whom you perceive to be high on coke is quite an experience. Let me explain...

I was getting a wash & blow-dry earlier this afternoon.
As I sat in the hair-washing chair, Tony disappeared for a few minutes. I thought nothing of it at first. When he came back though, he was acting erratic, even for an up-beat hair stylist who strangely covers his own head with a hat. He kept walking away claiming to get another product, but coming back empty-handed. Me, in my most nervous fashion, began to talk about anything I could think of. Wine bars, Polish people, internet dating...

"Internet dating. I wish I had that back in the day. I mean, we didn't have the internet, but I wouldh've been crazy with that shit."

I consider changing the topic after his response. Tony begins to dry my hair and drops the diffuser on my head! It is imperative to point out that the diffuser is gold and Tony refers to it as his TOOTH. He proceeds to pick the diffuser off the ground and put it to his teeth like a grill. Then he says, and I kid you not,

"WASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSUUUPPPPPPPPP"

I laughed, nervously and wondered why he didn't just apologize. Like what the fuck. Tony came back with what he claimed was leave-in conditioner, but smelled and felt a lot like hairspray. What do I care? If this were a cut and the inebriated man before me had scissors in his hand, I would have bolted, but a blow-dry is pretty difficult to mess up.

He proceeds to drop a lot of his tools and turn on some Beethoven from his ipod...not before making me marvel at his new ipod skin though.

"Wow, cool", I say. "That chick's boobs look like um.....cherries".

Then Tony shows me some hair extensions that he's going to put in his client's hair on her wedding. They look pretty cheap; dollar-store Halloween special cheap. Tony obviously shows me things that appear way cooler when you are H-I-G-H, a bright idea that must have come to him earlier in the day. I catch his eyes in the mirror and they are darting.

I leave the salon after Tony helps me into my coat, fluffs my hair for the thirtieth time and practically hugs me; I am laughing to myself and thinking that instead of paying for this experience, I should just invest in a better blow-dryer and some quality brushes. After all, this is a job that I could probably do better myself...even while high.