November 27, 1997 (Thanksgiving!)
In an hour, I'm going to get my haircut. I feel almost as nervous as I did right before I got on the plane to the UK. Oh sure, you're probably saying, "It's just a haircut for crying out loud." Sure it is, but you have to consider the level of trust you're putting in a person you've never met before.
This person has the power to ruin your life. One wrong move, and your social life can be devastated for weeks. It can cost you friends, sex, or even jobs. A bad haircut can leave you a weeping and pathetic ball of human waste for weeks.
And there's more. I would never willingly let a stranger anywhere near my head with any sharp metal implements, yet for a haircut, I PAY for the privelege! And when when they bring out the straight razor, well that is just beyond intolerable. Still I sit there, my sweaty palms clenched underneath the plastic shawl, hoping beyond hope that I'll be able to stagger back home before I pass out from blood loss and praying that the doctors will be able to sew my ear back on.
Oh yeah, and a half-decent haircut would be nice, too.
17 Days till I go home...