“Gerade oder asdjklajksbdahsbdasdjbh?” the hairdresser asked.
Well Scheiße. I don’t know what asdjklajksbdahsbdasdjbh means. I know that eine Gerade is a line, thanks to Mathe. We’ll just go with ‘Gerade’.
“Gerade,” I said.
And so it became a game of A or B.
Oh? That’s what B means? Hmpf. Well…it works, I guess.
I’ve had my hair cut twice during my time here in Germany. The most recent adventure to the hairdresser wasn’t too bad, but my first haircut resulted in a radical departure from the tried-and-true ‘Andrew’ style.
My host brother helped me with the style request. “The same haircut, just a little shorter, especially in the back,” he said.
Through the mirror, I saw the hairdresser grab scissors, a razor, a comb, etc. ‘Fair enough,’ I thought to myself, ‘those are the tools of the trade. Just like normal.’
The razor switched on, and the mowing of my head began.
Oh, this is…different…
I looked at myself in the mirror in front of me. My face wore an expression of absolute fear. ‘Calm down, it’s just a little different,’ I thought to myself.
The room suddenly became a Great War trench, filled with the gas of a hairspray container. I’m pretty sure my arm hair was solidified after coming into contact with this weaponized hairspray.
“…shorter, especially in the back,” really meant shorter. My head felt like a putting green’s fringe. Some gelled wisp of fabulousness graced my forehead, and a long serpent of keratin slithered down from my widow’s peak to my right eyebrow. My host brother looked at me and laughed. Not what either of us were expecting.
And no, I won’t be posting pictures. Sorry.