it was great, thanks for asking

But it was the longest haircut I have ever had. Really, the longest. I got to this place and it is the kind of place where there is an ambient fountain in the lobby, and they offer you a complimentary beverage. So that was a little weird in itself.

The hair-guy's ASSISTANT washed and dried my hair, then straightened all of it with a flat iron. This is his technique, see, to straighten and then cut it when it is dry. The actual cutting portion of the evening took about 45 or 50 minutes.

The end result is rather nice...lots of layers, a little shorter without "losing the length" and a hint of bang. I like it, but I am not sure if I will go back. The biggest reason is because the environment is so freakin' suburban, it is just weird to be in there. Here is a brief description of some of the characters:

Assistant: About 25, white, female, short messy-looking brown hair, nice eyebrows, glittery shoes.
When I told her that I shaved my head in college, she acted like she didn't hear me, and then said, "Wait, did you shave your head, seriously?"

Hair-guy: about 35, white, bleached blond hair, scruffy beard, skinny pants, tattoo sleeve, diesel longhorn belt buckle with matching bracelet. I was convinced he was gay. He asked me twice if I had kids, and I said no. I finally got the hint and asked if HE had kids. He does, of course, and then told me all about them.

Mom: No, not my mom. This lady was there with her daughter. About early 50s, but trying to pass for 40, white, wearing stilleto clogs with fur lining. I know about the fur because while she was waiting for her highlights she took one off and examined it, then replaced it and admired her foot for about 2 minutes before returning to her compelling issue of Harpers. She brought a gift for her hairdresser. It was an ornament avatar of a hairdresser. At the checkout, she announced that she also got one for her "nail tech."

Daughter: Embarrassed of her mom.

Trophy wife:
I didn't actually see this woman until I was on the way out, despite the fact that she was sitting in the chair next to me. I did, however, overhear this intriguing convo upon her entrance.
Hair-lady: So, what do you want to do today?
TW: "I can't wash, dry or flat iron my hair! I just had surgery and can't raise my arms."
Me: [You just had a boob job!]

I tell myself that maybe I am being judgmental, so I agree (with myself) that I will see what she looks like before I apply some stereotype, but my hair is being cut, and I can't turn to look at her!
I listen to several more conversations on fashion, makeup, and her recent cruise until the moment arrives. And guess what.

Trophy wife: about 25, white, bleached blond, about 120 pounds, tan.

Boob job.