So after my girlish squeal of absolute giddiness over getting my haircut, I Googled my way. Kids didn’t have school today so hubby stayed home with them and I would take the bus and train. No problem. I was an expert at this point. So I diligently mapped my way. Saved everything to my phone including the picture of Carrie Underwood’s haircut with which I wanted my hair to look like.
Off I went, fresh faced with wonder and joy and anticipation.
I get on the bus which would take me to the train station. Got on the proper train and listened carefully to every stop, waiting for mine.
Then all hell broke lose.
As the train rolled towards my stop, I texted hubby to let him know I’d arrived and I would call/text when I was finished. The train doors opened and I raised one foot, ready to take that step onto platform. Only I never made it. There was a sharp shove between my shoulder blades and I found myself on my hands and knees. My phone clattered from my hands, people flocked past me, uncaring. My phone hit the ground and flicked off. My knees and hands were caked in mud and blood from my cuts. A woman stopped and hefted me up, asked if I was okay. I was. It’s okay. Just a little cut. No big deal. But my knees burned and both were bleeding. It soaked into my jeans, mixing with the wet mud. Fabulous, but it’s okay! Really. It’s. Ooookay! I was determined to shake it off and continue.
The woman gave me a Kleenex and I thanked her and we parted ways.
No! Don’t take a breath of relief. That’s not the end.
I get off on the wrong side of the mall, which would have been fine, except I had never been to that part of the city before AND my phone was no longer working. Nope. It was dead. DEAD!! Black screen of death and everything, so I had no idea which direction to take without all the information I had diligently saved to my phone. I spent fifteen minutes walking up one way and down the other until I spot a construction crew working on putting pipes into the ground. I spotted a woman standing there with a stop sign in hand. She wasn’t doing anything, except eating chocolate and flipping through her phone. I walked over said, “Excuse me, my phone died, can you tell me where Wilson is.” (street name). She looked at me through her Gucci glasses, blinked. “How would I know? You have a phone, check on there.”
Wow. Just wow. FINE!
I walked away, after I thanked her (stupid polite gene!). I walked into the mall, figuring someone, SOMEONE! in all that chaos and horde of people, would know something, right? RIGHT?!
I asked SIX people if they knew where Wilson was. SIX! They all looked at me as if I wanted to buy crack. Okay. Fine. It’s okay. I will just change tactics. I asked five different people if they knew where Scotiabank was (it’s, ha-ha, a bank. It’s also enormous and red. You really can’t miss it). Surprise, surprise…no one knew what I was talking about. Awesome.
After wandering around (at this point I was twenty minutes late for my appointment). I walked up one street and down another, asking people and businesses as I went. Still not a soul knew what I was talking about.
after another ten minutes (now I’m half an hour late) I came across another construction crew. I asked the guy standing there, “Excuse me, do you know where Scotiabank is?” The man shrugged. “No, but you can ask them.” He points to the TD bank behind me.
Why not. Why. Not.
I walk inside and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the windows as I pass through. I look HORRIBLE. My face is blotchy from the wind and my very poor attempts not to burst into tears of frustration. My nose is red. My hair. MY HAIR is all over the damn place. It’s fuzzy from the wind and I look borderline deranged. I am shocked no one thought to kick my ass outta there. But the man I cornered smiled sympathetically at me and told me I was close and he pointed me in the right direction. I kid you not, I almost hugged him.
Nope. Not done yet.
I follow his directions and find the proper street. I FIND Scotiabank! Hooray!!! *happy tears* My knees are BURNING at this point, but I keep walking. I FIND my destination. I walk in, forty-five minutes late, sniffling, teary-eyed and exhausted. I fully expect to be turned away, or told to wait at the vary least. Nope. I was taken straight to a seat and my stylist was FABULOUS!! I mean absolutely amazing. He was so kind and patient. I showed him what I wanted and we got started.
We didn’t talk much. I took the time to study the other people in the salon. I noticed everyone was talking to their customers. They were having happy conversations and I glanced at my person and wondered if I should say something. But I was still mortified at being so horribly late. Nevertheless, I tried to explain and apologize for the hundredth time. All the while, under the skin colored cape, I could feel the mud and blood drying against my kneecaps. The sticky fabric was peeling away from skin and it was disgusting.
Have you ever watched yourself go cross-eyed in a mirror? No? Try it. It’s amusing.
Since I was the only one not making small talk with my stylist, I sat rigid and unblinking in my chair, watching as bits of hair tumbled to the ground. He seemed so focused I didn’t want to disturb him. Eventually, we started to talk. I learned he was from Japan. He’d been in Canada for two years, but he’d been styling hair for eleven years. There was a tiny language barrier, but we totally understood each other. He was awesome, took an hour on my hair, making sure ever inch of it was perfect.
Aww! Happy ending, right? Nope. Not even close.
After one of the best haircuts of my life, I left and made my way back towards the mall. That’s when I made my OMG I LOOK AWESOME!!! Post on Facebook. I may also have mentioned kidnapping my stylist. And yes, I was rocking that shit, strutting the sidewalk like I was the embodiment of Cindy Crawford (Angelina Jolie for you younger generation). There was hair flicking. Oh yes there was. Hair flicking and strutting. I even had Work Bitch by Britney Spears pounding through my headphones so I was working it extra hard.
Then some dude rounded a corner between two buildings, phone flipping and not paying attention and I was dosed…. DOSED in a thick, cold strawberry milkshake. O.M.G for real?!
I just stood there, arms out, horrified as chunks poured down my front, off my belt and down the front of my shirt. It was in my hair, soaking into my clothes and shoes. No %#^ing way!
Yup. Wanted to cry all over again.
But I walked, with less of a strut, to the mall and into the bathroom, ignoring the curious stars. I walked into the bathroom, cleaned as much of the stuff off as possible.
Feeling deflated, tired and cranky, I left the bathroom and spotted a sign for Chapters (it’s one of the biggest bookstore chains in Canada) and my spirits instantly perked. I wouldn’t buy anything, I told myself, but being amongst friends (books) was sure to make this craptastic day better, right? RIGHT?!
I ran to those doors like a zombie was chasing me. I ran straight into them and flew back. Confusion had me looking for a sign. Maybe it was pull, not push?! Nope. There was a sign and it said: CLOSED DUE TO WATER LEAKAGE.
WHAT?! WHHHHAAATT?!?!?! NOOOOOO!!! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!!! (I may have screamed this out loud, scared a few people, but I did not care!!! I was distraught!)
Sniffling like a five year old who had dropped her cone after only one lick, I dragged myself away and decided I needed a drink. Since I don’t drink alcohol, I tracked down one of those YOU ARE HERE signs and found the closest Tim Horton’s (it’s a coffee shop like Starbucks).
YES! ICE CAP!! Life will be good again once I get an ice cap.
I. Will. NOT. Cry. I won’t! I won’t…*sniffle*
But I waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally got to the front and…sorry, our ice cap machine is broken.
WHY GOD?! WHY?!??! WHO DID I PISS OFF IN A PAST LIFE? I’M SORRY!
Abandoning all desires to live, I walked around for a while, looking for a bank machine. For one of the biggest malls in BC, you would think there would at least be ONE, right? I found said ONE and it was out of order, so I had to hoof it to the opposite side of the mall for another ONE. Pulled money out to get me home and no one in the entire mall would break my measly twenty bucks to make change for the train. Not one. *headdesk* I finally found someone (who, by the way, took one look at me, skirted around the counter and pulled me into a hug. I swear to god. I was embraced by a complete stranger. THAT is how pathetic I looked). So I returned to the other side of the mall, up a flight of stairs with my legs throbbing to the thighs now. But that’s okay. It was okay because I had four children and I was immune to pain.
Now, remember how I was new to that part of the city? I decided to ask someone who worked for Transit where I was and how to get home. Makes sense, right?
I found a parked bus and a woman sitting inside. I waited patiently in the open doorway for her to finish the call she was making. I waited. And waited. And waited. Screw this! I walked away. I found my way to the train station (on my own! Go me!)
So, going into the city, I took the westbound train. Reason and logic states that I would have to take the eastbound to head home, right? RIGHT?!?!?!? Ha! No. No. No. No. Because this is crazy world and NOTHING makes sense. Apparently, I was supposed to take a bus further down the train line, catch the eastbound from there. So, I wound up going a whole other direction, had to get off, walk two blocks, get back on the train and finally get home.
So after all that…I still love my haircut and here is the pictures I promised. I hope you guys enjoy it, because I almost died getting them. Also, please forgive the lack of soul and the defeat in my eyes. I had a long day before taking these and I won’t lie, I look like absolute crap. I will try to take better ones tomorrow. For now…enjoy.