Greetings and Sallytations!
When you move to a new place, you have to start all over again finding the basic services you need. I’d like to share my recent tale of getting my first haircut in Florida.
Instead of asking the ladies at the pool, who have a grip on this type of question, I ventured out to the Walmart hair shop. I get a beautiful gal who doesn’t speak English very well, but pointed to me to go to her chair. I pointed to the wall with the various prices and I requested the “Express Cut.” Of course, this cut was the lowest price.
My hairdresser keeps saying to me what sounded like foreman or forman. She asked how much I wanted cut off and I gave her a hand gesture of about an inch. Now, she has me look at this man waiting in a chair for his cut. I’m confused. I told her I’m not with him. It gets better.
Next, she brings over another hairdresser who helps to communicate what I want. I had my own translator. I felt like I was in the Miss America pageant, the part when they ask that final question and the translator is right there. I was thinking to myself, “world peace and a sporty, wispy haircut.” We started the cut with a language barrier, but we tried to make small talk.
She tells me she’s from Cuba. She goes on to tell me most of her family lives here in Florida, but her mother is still in Cuba. I asked her if she’s been to Miami. She laughed and laughed. I asked her what Miami is like and she asked me if I like Cuban people.
Well, I told her she was my first Cuban friend and, of course, I referenced Ricky Ricardo. She gave me a blank look. I realized she was clueless about Ricky as she never heard of Lucy Ball. Suddenly I can’t get that Babalu song out of my head. Her point was there are many Cubans living in Miami. You had to be there.
She wasn’t impressed with my Cuban cigar expertise. So, back to the Express Cut. It’s getting shorter and shorter and I have to have her stop. I’m starting to look like the girl from the Buster Brown shoe ads. Of course, my Cuban friend doesn’t know about the Buster Brown girl.
Now, I’m sitting there with wet hair and waiting for a quick blow dry. Again, she points to the “Express Cut” sign that reads “no hair dry included.”
I’m finally realizing you get what you pay for. Finally, she explains this cut is for men only. That was the “forman” word she kept saying. Now I’m thinking she must’ve thought I was a cross dresser or something asking for this cut.
I’m grateful I didn’t leave with a buzz cut. In my defense, there wasn’t anything on the sign that said “for men only.” I guess people just know this. She gave me her card and pointed to the next level cut for next time.
So, I left with my wet Buster Brown pixie look and shopped around Walmart until my hair was dry. I’m liking my man cut with a twist a week later. I can’t wait to go back for round two and beef up on my Cuban knowledge. Maybe I’ll take up some Spanish and really dazzle her. Just another day in the life of Sally in Florida.
I’m reading a great book titled “The Shadows We Hide” by Allen Eskens. Eskens is a Minnesota author and I’ve loved all his books. Start with “The Life We Bury” and you can thank me later.
I’d like to give a shout-out to my daughters, Alison and Ashlee Peterangelo. They celebrate their 27th birthdays this week. What a ride it’s been. Parenting goes by in a blink of an eye. It seems like yesterday when they cut “my” hair while I was sleeping. No bangs. I’d swear I had requested that same cut from Walmart when I woke up.
I can’t forget the time when they connected all my freckles and moles with permanent marker. I can’t make this stuff up. Happy Birthday, A & A. I just saved money on your birthday cards.
Oh, before I forget, I lost 8 ounces. Hold your applause. Another cup out of the ocean!
Sally Yuccas lives in Virginia, MN, and winters in Naples. FL.