A Hair-Raising Experience

by Bella Rum

So about the hair. As salons go, the place was clean and ordinary. No frills. Country music was playing. Cindy is in her fifties and nice, and quiet. A serious person is she. I came to this conclusion because I couldn’t make her laugh with my witty banter. No, I have not considered the possibility that my witty banter isn’t all that witty. But why would she have to laugh anyway? She does not. The hair is what matters. Her cut was an improvement – not stupendous, but better – and I think I may like it even better when I do my blow-dry. She used five different products on my hair. I will wash it today.

Her next client, an elderly lady wielding a walker, arrived while Cindy was still cutting my hair. Cindy had to stop cutting and help her get through the door. The lady looked at me, looked at the clock, and Cindy said, “You’re a little early.” The lady looked perplexed, and started talking about how she was shaking because she hadn’t eaten (diabetes?). She seemed a little confused.

Then she said she could have sworn her appointment was at noon. I told her that at least she’d gotten the right day, which is better than I did once. Cindy told her that she had an hour before her appointment, and should get something to eat in the shopping center. As Cindy helped her out the door, she complained that she’d broken her arm in two places and reckoned she’d break every bone in her body before it was all over.

As we were finishing, she returned with a hotdog that she’d gotten in the shopping center. Cindy helped her negotiate the door again, and told her she could sit at a small table that was between two chairs. As she was situating herself, she suddenly snorted at a magazine on the table and said, “I can’t stand the sight of him. I can’t eat if I have to look at him!” I unwisely asked, “Who?” She said, “Trump!” I quickly told her I’d been avoiding the news and especially politics recently, and turned to pay my bill and skedaddle. She said, “Well, you don’t think I watch it on purpose, do you?” LOL I tell you, I have a wide streak for discombobulated, older ladies who speak their minds. I have an aunt who has lost her filter, but it’s more than that. I also subscribe to the Rodney can’t-we-all-get-along King philosophy with strangers, but when I turned back to Cindy, she didn’t have an all-we-are-saying-is-give-peace-a-chance kind of expression on her face. Whoa! She did not subscribe to my philosophy. Shaking with anger, she said, “I voted for Trump. He’s my president. I’m proud to have him for my president. I didn’t vote for Obama, and I can’t wait until he’s gone.”

Okay.

She continued, but I can’t remember all of it. Her face was rippling with emotion. She was so furious that she couldn’t recognize that the lady was a little off-center, and I don’t mean politically. I signed my receipt, and left, thinking that now that woman had to get in Cindy’s chair and let her take scissors to her head. As I was leaving, I heard the older lady say to Cindy, “You voted for who?”

Talk about hair-raising experiences. I came home to H who only shouts at the television every morning, but keeps it inside his own house.

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