Escaping Misty

Things have gotten completely out of control. Not only is my hair a disaster right now, my facial hair grew seemingly overnight and I am once again Furry Girl. I'm working in the Beaverton branch this week, a place where if you don't get the hell out of there at 5:01pm they'll lock you in for the night, so I decided to keep an eye out for a local salon at which I might get a wax appointment after work.

The cool thing about an iPhone is that (and it's just like they say on TV) when you are on your way to the Bales Thriftway for a salad for lunch, and you're stuck at the very short left turn light at Barnes and Cornell, and you see a sign in that strip mall for the Silhouette Salon, you can google it and call it while you wait for your turn. So, you know, I did that. I guess I should be a little bit more selective in the future. But hey, you live and learn.

When I phoned, the girl answering the phone didn't know if anyone did waxing there, you see, because they all take care of their own business. After a pause where I thought she should have started talking first, I asked, So... should I just call back and hope someone else picks up? She said, no, she'd ask. After a while she came back and told me there were a couple of people that could do it, but nobody knew when they would be in. Could she call me back? Well, sure, I said. She did, moments later, in fact, and I was set for a 5:30 eyebrow and lip.

I was dragged by the collar out at 5:05pm, so I made it to the salon at about 5:20pm. The girl sitting at the front desk greeted me as I walked in, and said she had been waiting for me. She was very nice. I actually had to sit back in one of the shampoo bowls for the procedure, which was fine, I've done that before, as she proceeded to wax and hack away my somewhat unruly brows. She kind of went on and on about how crazy my brows were. In the nicest of ways, but she kept marveling about how she couldn't believe they grew so fast and long. She was quick, though, and cheap, which is good, on account of my current financial ruin, but the wacky thing about this salon was not specifically the wax experience itself. It was Misty.

Misty was a short Asian woman with hair that frankly was a bit inappropriate for a salon employee. Meaning it was a mess. And she was wearing slippers. And a smock, which blended in with the salon theme, but in any other setting could have been mistaken for a housecoat. As I was getting my purse to pay and leave, and while waiting for the wax person to go get a card for me (since up to this point I had no idea what her name was), Misty lunged at me with a hairbrush, pulled my head down closer to her comfort zone and started brushing my hair.

Okay, a) I haven't used a brush on dry hair since I was eleven, and b) I'm sorry, who are you again? She said, in her broken English, I brush your hair for you. I did what I always do in an uncomfortable public situation, I laughed and went along with it, all the while creeping toward the front entrance. Misty was no quitter, though, and when she was done, she noticed lint on my shirt and ran to her counter for a lint roller. I clean you up, she said, and proceeded to roll the entire upper half of my torso with it - and I do mean the ENTIRE upper half. Anyone who knows me well enough knows my intimacy issues - they usually involve hugging women or standing a little bit too close. I learned today that they are actually much deeper than that - I am clearly not comfortable having my chest area thoroughly lint-rolled by a tiny Asian woman in slippers and a housecoat. Who knew.

I managed to get away from her long enough to write my check out to Gail (her name, it turns out), but the ever-vigilant Misty grabbed my hand and said, I give you manicure. I give you pedicure. You call me. I do your hair. She shoved her card INSIDE my wallet, like where my debit card is, and then stood silently by my side. I, of course, not knowing how to react to ANY of this, frantically scribbled out the check, all the while laughing like a lunatic, thanked Gail, and raced for the door. With Misty at my side. She darted ahead and got the door for me. You call me, I do your hair! she called after me as I sprinted to my car. I'm guessing she was still standing at the open door, watching me drive away, but I was too shaken up to look in the rear view mirror.

You see, it's not just "Oh I should go get my eyebrows waxed" for me. It's really so much more.