My Apologies to the Man in the Next Chair

It was brought to my attention that I need to either finish my "adventures from the hair salon" story. or stop with the teasers. So let me wrap up the story so we can leave the salon...

As I said yesterday, after all talk of the Bachelor had subsided (including a sad follow-up conversation on Joe the Millionaire and some other show called My Big Fat Fiance), I now turned to eaves-dropping on the conversation the adjoining stylist was having with her customer. He was an older gentleman, probably pushing 70, maybe even 75. She was desperately trying to explain to him how she wanted to cut his hair, but her references were going over his head. Finally, she looked around and said, "Does anyone remember the name of that old country singer fellow whose last name was Wagoner?" Well listen, I am from Tennessee, and this is the only reason I can think of that I knew. I don't love country music, although I can listen to Vince or Willie or Carrie with no problem. But out of my mouth popped "Porter Wagoner." Well, the stylist jumped for joy. This was the name she was searching for. I felt like killing myself because I would now forever be known as "the lady who knew who Porter Wagoner is"...and THAT IS NOT WHO I AM!" Once again, I have to refer back to a slightly traumatic childhood memory. I cringe as I say this...but the only possible way I could have known that little tidbit of information is because my dad used to watch HeeHaw. In fact, he heehawed at Heehaw. This show was pretty much a variety show version of Dukes of Hazzard.

Let me stress that I could not have been more than 5 or 6 when this show was on, but even at that tender age, I realized that there was something inherently wrong with that humor, and I could never understand my intelligent, sweet, articulate father practically guffawing at this show. ANYWAY, Porter Wagoner often performed on that show, and that painful memory was brought to the forefront...
On with the story...as soon as I say it, the little old man literally glares at me. And then it dawns on me...he KNEW who she was referring to, but he was pretending not to!!! He was hoping I was going to say "Robert Wagoner" or even "Jack Wagoner"...but instead, I backed up her assertion that he would look like Porter. Remember on "Sex and the City" when Charlotte says "In some cultures, heavy women with mustaches are considered beautiful?" and Samantha answers "And you're looking at me while you're saying that?."....same thing. Needless to say, we sat in uncomfortable silence the rest of the time.

One more question to throw out into the universe about the hair salon. Do you ever notice when the young girl (who sweeps up hair) comes around to take the lunch order of the stylists, the price level of the takeout orders are astounding? I mean, nobody is ordering the value meal from McDonald's. They are all getting 3 course meals from the gourmet restaurant next door (where I have only eaten on my anniversary...I'm just saying) I'm sitting there wondering if I'll have enough money left over after the tip to get a coke out of the machine, and they are debating between steak and shrimp.

Of course, as I pay my bill, it all becomes clear. The tip alone is enough to make someone's car payment. And you know what? Good for them. Just the ability to sit there all day and placate all of their customers is a real skill. More power to them. (And maybe I should open a restaurant near by)

So we now exit the hair salon. I'm going to the beach next week, so tomorrow let's talk about bathing suits and packing...and possibly why men are impossible...