I don't know about you folks, but I absolutely LOVE getting hair cuts. I mean c'mon, what could be better?
Before you even go for the haircut your loving mother reminds you (repeatedly) that you need one. Thanks Mom! If not for those hourly reminders, I might have forgotten.
So finally the wonderful day arrives. I pause at the door of the salon to let down my waist length hair. I walk up in there like I own the place and add my name to the waiting list, and how I want my hair cut.
Hey, I'm in luck today! There's only one stylist working and 7 people in front of me! This should be a breeze!
I take a seat in the waiting area to look for some good reading material. However, some little ankle biter took the only Dr. Seuss book, so I was stuck with an issue of Turtle Magazine.
That's when I saw the perfect time passer, a Tonka Truck! The ankle biter saw it just as I did. After eyeing each other for a moment it was an all out brawl.
I almost didn't need the cut after he won the truck - he was a hair puller!
About 3 days later an elderly woman, Bea, called my name: Erin. She led me to a sink where an assistant washed my hair with such gentleness. Thanks sir, I usually put the shampoo in my eyes too. Then I was led to one of those luxurious vinyl chairs where a smock with neon orange ducks was fitted "snuggly" around my neck. Who needs to breathe anyway...?
Bea looked down at the paper I filled out, then up at me, at the paper again, and once more at me.
"Are you SURE this is the hair cut you want?" she asked, frowning.
"Yeah, of course it is," I replied, confused. It was the same cut I always got, 1/2 inch off the back, trim the bangs.
When she was done I looked up... and screamed! I looked like Lisa Simpson!
"What happened?!?!" I sputtered.
"It says right here, 1 inch spikes... You are Aaron, aren't you?"
