Haircut

I was in dire need of a haircut, and was delighted to find a salon on the base.  Nearly 100 percent of  the staff of all the facilities on the base are Korean.  Generally, they understand English very well, but their natural accent makes understanding them difficult.  Additionally, many standard American phrases do not translate well, so I combine universal signs with patience.  I walked in to make an appointment, and was greeted by the staff.  The smiley gal came over to the desk asked how I could be helped.

"I would like to make an appointment for a haircut."

"What time?"

"Do you have anything tomorrow morning," I ask.

She nods, "What time?"

"What time do you open?"

"10 o'clock"

"Great, anytime after that"Completely blank stare.  Rats. "Is 10 open"

"Yes, Open at ten o'clock"

"Can I get a haircut at ten o'clock?"

"yes, Name?"

Okay, so at this point, I realize I'm rolling the dice with getting a haircut here.  I smile at my ability to throw caution to the wind, and I finish the appointment making process.  I leave the salon and tell myself that I am not one of those people that freaks out if their hair isn't cut exactly how they expected it to be.  A change would be good!

The following day, I stroll in a few minutes early and explain I am there for a haircut at ten, and I'm asked to have a seat.  While waiting I flip through several of the usual hair magazine.  I find a picture that perfectly illustrates the long layers I would like.  Fantastic!  I hadn't quite figured out the universal sign for 'long layers' so the day was looking up.  I keep glancing up at the gals in the salon as they are speaking Korean to each other, and I don't want to miss my cue.  Then, there in an interruption in the Korean, and I'm asked to go sit in one of the chairs.  I walk over with my magazine, and have a seat.  I notice the framed license on the wall says Ms. Cho.  A gal comes over and I assume this is Ms Cho.

 'shampoo,' she says.

 The lack of inflection in her tone make me curious as to if this is a question or statement.  This is a very common problem.  I nod a yes, and she gives me the universal sign for 'come over to the shampoo area'.

I walk over, and sit, and there is this awkward few moments of trying to figure out when I lay back as there is not any conversation between us.  she taps on my knees as an indication that I can put my gangly legs over this large footstool thing.  She covered my eyes with a separate towel which I was grateful for because once she turned on the water, Sloppy Sally nearly drowned me.  Once done, she sat me up and walked back to the first chair.  I stood up, staggered a bit from the amount of water in my inner ear, and followed.  I sat down and was just about to relax when a new gal came over.  She greeted me in English, so I figured this was Ms. Cho.  She took the towel, and began wrapping my hair in it.  She seemed to be fashioning something out of the towel- wrapped hair, and I had never seen this done.  I was trying to remember if Origami was only a Japanese art.  Maybe they tie your hair into a swan and take your picture!  What an interesting part of their culture!  Ms Cho, Goddess of pain, then twisted the towel about 300 degrees and my eyelids were pulled  behind my ears.

"What the Hell?"

 The pressure lightened and I tried to blink the flashing stars out of my eyes.  There was no swan, but just a dull throbbing as my face moved back into the correct place.

Unfazed, she reached over to plug in the blow dryer.  I wiped the tears away, and then sat on my hands for round two.

In my experience, the hairdresser cuts your hair before blow drying, but I was not about to ask questions.  Who knows what other terrible torture tactics she had up her sleeve.

Shampoo gal came over and begins speaking, in Korean, to Ms Cho.  She is talking back but hardly looking at the gal.  The go back and forth, and then shampoo gal fishes another blow dryer out of the drawer and begins drying the right side of my head.  I know I have a lot of hair, but this was a first!

Once done, Ms Cho asks how I want my hair cut.  I launch into my explanation using my handy visual aid.  She asks if I want to 'keep long' and I say to take off two inches.  When I say two inches, I also give the universal sign for 'two inches'.  She nods, and goes to work.  She works like Edward Scissorhands.  She snips fervently and pokes at my head to get me to move to one side or the other.  I see a remarkable amount of hair hit the floor, and remind myself that I am not one of those people that freaks out about their hair.  There is simply a fury of scissors and blond hair and I keep my eyes squeezed shut as to avoid further injury.  She slows down and makes some small snips here and there.  I move the hair that is in my eyes and look in the mirror.  Her conversion table is clearly wrong because this was NOT two inches.  DAMN the metric system.

She says, "Flat Iron"

"No, thank you," I say and stare in to the mirror gloomily.

"Good"

Wow.  What stellar service!

She hands me a mirror, and twirls me around.  I look at the back of my head and wonder to myself if I will be mistaken for a man.

"Okay," I say.

She twirls me around, unhooks the cape, and comes at me with the blow dryer again.  ENOUGH with the blow drying!

I pick up my purse and the magazine.  I marvel at the lack of resemblance between my new hair-do and the magazine.   As I follow her to the cashier stand, I do notice my haircut matches hers.  Cripes, is there just one style sold here?

There is an excessive amount  of Korean conversation between Ms. Cho and the cashier gal.  I feel strongly that they are talking about me.  I look back one last time at the pile of golden locks on the floor.  I'm given my total, and Ms. Cho hands me her card.  Great, I can tell all my friends.  The picture on the front is of a blond American, with my new haircut.  Interesting.

It isn't grotesque, and it is just hair, and when I really think about it, I bet a lot of gals in Hollywood would love to get a face lift/haircut combo.  I leave the salon feeling very Hollywood.