This week I’m between internship and interview, so I’m chillin’.
Yesterday, I went to the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City. Did some shopping, and while I was browsing shops on the second level, I walked by one of those massage stations. I glanced over as I walked by, and the guy giving a massage insisted, “Come over, sit down.” I was impressed. I’d barely looked over, but there I was, their next client. While I was getting my massage, I noticed they did this to several other people. They’re good at what they do. They didn’t ask people if they would like a massage. They were like bitch please, you need a fucking massage and you will sit your ass down in this massage chair and enjoy it. And then you’ll ask for 10 more minutes. When my time was up, he said, “Okay buddy” and then I sat up, somewhat startled. I was so relaxed it took a few seconds to figure out what was going on. “Are you alright?” he asked.
After stopping by the Foot Locker (where they now just recycle shoes from the early ’90s), I walked by a nails spa. I’ve been playing a lot of soccer lately, so my feet are pretty beat up. I figured why not. I’ve never had a pedicure before, so I gave it a go. When I left, I felt like my feet were baby feet—incredibly soft, light, and sensitive. What I really want to know, though, is why Vietnamese woman have a monopoly on nails spas. I’ve never walked by one in a mall and not seen an Asian woman giving a manicure.
Apparently, yesterday was my health and beauty day. Riding the escalator back down to the third level, an Israeli woman approached me and asked me to hold out my hands. It was mid-afternoon, I had time, why not? I figured she would do a palm reading or something, but she was selling Dead Sea salt. I admit, my hands were, yes, baby soft after she rubbed my hands in the salt. I was impressed. I’d never felt my hands that soft before. Or many women’s hands, for that matter. She asked me where I was from. What I did for a living. How old I am. If I have a girlfriend.
“No? Oh, you have a new girl every night?”
She demonstrated how I have to shake up the minerals by doing a little dance before I use the product. She asked to see my mineral dance.
“You’re cute, what a good shake!” she chirped.
She sold me on the facial peel. She would also give me a deal.
“You buy two product, we won’t make a receipt for third. $80 lotion—your’s because I like you.”
No thanks. I’m already buying your facial peel because you’ve been rubbing against me and telling me how cute I am. I don’t need to drop billfold on your lotion too. At least I know I’m being worked.
And then, she told me she lived in London for four years. She hated it.
“It was good for the first year. But after that, always depressed. There’s sunshine for, like, two hours. And I am happy person, if I am sad, you know it’s bad.”
Then she moved to Philly for four years.
“Loved it! Great food, great bars. It is my home!”
“Now I’ve been in D.C. for one month.”
“I would give you my phone number, but it’s broken and I don’t have one right now.”
She writes her email address and name on my receipt.
Earlier in the day, I decided that it was time for a haircut since I’ve been getting a little shaggy, and in light of the upcoming interview. But where to get a haircut since there’s no Head Shop in Arlington?
Yelp is awesome, if you haven’t used it and you have a smartphone, you’re missing out. Load up the app, select “nearby”, and then a category such as “grocery”, “convenience store” or “barbershop”, and the app will use your smartphone’s GPS to list nearby businesses. What’s more, because Yelp is social, people rate businesses and leave tips, reviews, and photos. So you have an idea of what you’re getting into before you visit a business you haven’t been to before.
Willy’s Barber Shop & Hair Stylists gives a damn good haircut. For $15, you also get a straight razor shave (on the neck). They do an excellent job of cleaning off the excess hair so you’re not itchy when you leave. And they take time to style your hair so you’re presentable. You don’t have to rush home to shower and comb your hair only to find you’ve got a hack job. My standards for barbers have been raised. Monty’s Barber Shop, no more.
Note: Recently, it was brought to my attention that the way I phrased certain comments in a previous post demonstrated a certain ignorance and unworldliness. I was amazed at myself for having written what I did. Similarly, it was also suggested that my observation about Vietnamese women working at nails spas might be inappropriate. I’m open to discussion about this. My intent is not to be malicious, or passively racist. I’m curious as to why my stereotypes are continually reaffirmed. I’ll probably write an extended post in the near future on the issue of stereotypes and latent racism. In the mean time, I welcome criticism and comments.