I Entered Hell Yesterday

I took Evie to get a haircut. We go to one of those kid salons at the mall where when you walk in the door you’re smacked in the face by shrieking music and migraine-inducing colors. Every time we go there it brings to mind One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, except worse. More like, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest on acid. I have this recurring vision a lot, actually – at birthday parties for Evie’s friends, at Evie’s school, mostly whenever Evie is concerned.

Anyway, I only let a hairdresser named Cheryl cut Evie’s hair. Only Cheryl touches her head because, well, I’m picky about hairdressers. I have a basic rule of thumb – if the hairdresser either A. looks like a slut, she doesn’t cut my kid’s hair and B. if she looks like she goes home after work to smoke a doobie and kick back with a six-pack of Miller Lite, she doesn’t cut my kid’s hair, although I envy the shit out of her. Cheryl is more like my mom’s age so, of course, she gives an exquisite child’s haircut. Obviously, I’m not the only one who thinks so because Cheryl’s shift started at 2 o’clock and we walked in at a quarter to 2 and there was already an hour wait.

Evie and I sat down on vinyl electric blue couches and watched all the other kids run around like weasels. For once, my own kid behaved, but the surroundings were so deplorable that it totally detracted from the bliss that I could have experienced as Evie sat quietly next to me. Although, I don’t think that Evie would have been so well behaved were it that she wasn’t so utterly horrified and overwhelmed by the experience of waiting with all those kids. The stupid salon has a wall of toys for sale, but no one ever buys anything. Mostly, the rubber snakes, and wooden pop-guns, and glow in the dark swords are used by the kids waiting for a haircut to beat the shit out of each other. And they throw them. And they slobber all over them. And, of course, most of the toys make noise so that you want to rip them out of those kids’ grimy little fingers and wallop them on the head with them. And the parents are done caring because the 20 minute wait, inevitably turns into a 35 minute wait. And no one ever says “sorry for the extra delay” or “thanks for waiting”. It’s like the airport.

We were entertained for about 10 minutes when a little boy, probably around 3 years old was wrangled into the seat kicking and screaming bloody murder. He was brought in by his mom, his aunt AND his grandma, as well as 5 other kids. Some of them were his siblings and some were his cousins. Whatever. It was a really stupid situation to begin with and when the kid was forced into the chair things got CRAZY. He turned red and got all sweaty and flailed his arms and legs and tried with all his might to break free of the seat belt they used to strap him in. He rocked back and forth so violently that the chair almost tipped over. But I will give the hairdresser credit, she grabbed her clippers and just jumped right in there. She held onto the bucking bronco’s head and started clipping. Of course his mom, aunt and grandma were three useless vaginas making the matter completely worse. The aunt was screaming in the kid’s face to “relax” and “look at me”, “it’s ok”. And the mom was holding his hands, sort of. I’m not really sure what she was doing. It appeared that she was TRYING to hold him still, but she neither held him nor kept him still so… Grandma was trying to keep an eye on all the other kids. But they were all over the place and grandma was grandma got viscous. She turned red and she started smacking butts. Then when she got them all together and quiet they pointed and laughed at their little brother which pissed him off more and Grandma told all the rest of them to “Get the hell away!” but that was stupid because she just had to get them all again.

Evie sat in utter disbelief and terror. “Mommy, is the lady hurting him?” “No, sweetie, he’s just a baby.” Well he was.

So that excitement ended and so did our entertainment. Everyone had headaches. At least 3 of the kids who were waiting were now terrified because of the screaming boy. And Evie ran up to Cheryl to tell her that she had waited long enough and that she believed that her turn was next. Well, it wasn’t. And now Evie started to get antsy. But she waited as best she could. And she really was a good girl. I told her I was proud of her and I was.