My Almost Ticket

Earlier last week I had a hair appointment. The salon I go to is in the ‘big city’ and there is no parking lot. I have to park on the street. Which is no biggy with Giselle, the only car that I’ve ever been semi-decent at parallel parking.  So I normally end up parking a block or two away. Well this there was an open spot right in front of the building. OMG Score!! This never happens to me, my lucky day!

I’m sitting in the chair, it’s been about a half hour by now. We’ve discussed the plan for the color and she’s applied the dye to my roots. Now I had worn pin curls to bed the night before, so my hair had some body to it. Well she had to brush it out to apply the dye. And you know what happens when you brush culries – bring on the frizz.

So I’m sitting in the chair with the dye in, just on my  roots so my frizzy hair sticks out like an afro. I have the black cap around my shoulders that they put on you to keep any dye and hair off of your clothes. I’m skimming through my people magazine catching up an all the celebrity gossip listening to the beauty parlor chat. The one stylist goes oh look someone's getting a ticket.

The gentleman next to me asks if it's the BMW. No not that one. Then I ask is it the MINI. Looks like it. It's parked in the handicap stall. OH CRAP. I run out, mind you I still have the cape on and my hair is frizzy craziness, to plead with the parking attendant. I didn't see the sign I tell him, I was just so excited about the great parking spot. I didn't see the sign hiding behind the tree. I say I'm so sorry; I'll move it right away.  

He tells me go ahead and move it. So I run back inside and grab my keys. The nearest spot I can find is two blocks way. I have to do the walk of shame back to the salon with crazy- dye-in hair. I get issued a warning.