Sometimes, these letters cover an idea and any story is for support¹Which is the point, but today I have to tell you a story of my first Saturday in Paris.

For whatever reason, I decided that I should get my hair cut in Paris. I had been thinking about cutting off my way too long tresses for a while. So, since I would be in Paris for two weekend, I thought, Why not? I found a couple of blogs about getting your hair cut in Paris, and I let Google lead the way. The salon that I wanted to go to didn’t have an appointment available until January. So, I went with choice number two²If you want to see their instagram, which I might show up on someday, check out LINK..

The plan³I always have a plan was to follow the haircut with a late lunch of fondue. I love fondue, and again, the Google helped me find the one place in Paris where you can order fondue for a party of one⁴Every other place said to order fondue, you must have a minimum of two people. Sigh..

The Maps de Google helped me figure out how to get there, and I admit to my first doubt as I didn’t have a good feel for if the neighborhood was safe or not. This often is a problem for me in France. I don’t have a feel for if a neighborhood will be safe. When I have asked my colleagues in the past if such and such a place was ok to go to, the answer was usually No⁵Not, “No, But…”. Just No.. But this trip, I will be in Paris for almost three weeks, so I didn’t want to bother them with another question⁶I ask a lot of questions..

I made it to the salon and like everything in France, it was small. No restroom. No space on the sidewalk in front of the shop. There were four chairs for having your hair done and four chairs to wait. I noticed several differences from a place to get your hair cut in the states. The one that stood out to me the most was – there was no chemical place for combs and scissors to be cleaned. They were just randomly scattered about the counter with little bits of hair still on them from the last customer.

I probably should have considered how bad my French is before I went. The place to check in for my appointment was a little counter in the back and the woman sitting behind it did not look up from her phone to great me. The man who was cutting another man’s hair and beard was set up right by the counter, and there wasn’t very much room. Mon français, which is not good to begin with, totally left me as I stood in the shop. So, I showed her my appointment on my phone: Shampoo, Soin Botox, Coupe. Madam said, “Botox,”⁷I have been looking for a while for something to make my hair less frizzy. When I saw the option for botox for your hair, a topical application only, it seemed perfect. But I also wanted to get about 8 inches cut and a new style. to me and then turned the the Monsieur and said a whole lot of things in French I didn’t understand at all.

Then she washed my hair.

No words. No smiles. Not very gentle. First too hot and then too cold.

I had no idea what was going on. However, I tried to just go with the flow. How bad could it be?

Getting Botox in your hair is a lot like getting your hair colored. The hairdresser wears gloves and combs chemicals on your hair⁸I have a LOT of hair and then they wrap your head in saran wrap and set you under a heater for about 45 minutes. 

If I spoke better French, perhaps I would have asked why didn’t they cut my hair first since it would take less chemicals if they had cut the 8 or so inches I wanted taken of my hair. I let my own intimidation about speaking French, and being in a hair salon⁹I am not a fan of getting my hair done anyway., prevent me from asking the question.

I didn’t notice at first, but every time Madam did something to my head, she set up her iPhone on a lamp to record what she was doing¹⁰And no, they didn’t even try to ask permission. So much for the whole GDPR protecting my digital image.. I amused myself on my phone¹¹NOT an iPhone using way too much data until the heater went off and I started to get cold. 

I sat. And sat. And sat. And nothing happened. Well, one thing happened… I realized I needed to cancel my fondue reservation. The procedure that was supposed to take 90 minutes had already taken 80, and my hair was still coated with chemicals and wrapped in saran wrap.

I started thinking – could I just leave? I really wanted to. What would have happened had I walked out with my hair coated in botox?

Finally, she came over and led me back to the sink to rinse the chemicals out of my hair. But, she didn’t rinse all the chemicals. I thought, “Finally, I can show her the picture of how I wanted my hair cut.”

I couldn’t catch her eye. I didn’t get the chance to show her the pictures I had saved on my phone of how I wanted my hair cut. She was too busy setting up the camera on the lights to record her using a flat iron¹²She wielded the flat iron like it wasn’t heated to 220 deg C, and I flinched a lot as it touched my neck with the sides of the iron. and blow dryer on my hair.

I suspected I was not going to be getting my hair cut.

I was wrong.

At the very end, she took an electric trimmer and cut a straight line in the back of my hair.

Seriously, that was it. No question of what I wanted. No update to the few layers I have in the front.

And all of that would have been amusing enough, in a way, if we hadn’t gotten to the point when I paid. Or, I should say, tried to pay.

You see, although there was nothing on the website to say they could not take a card, they apparently no longer had the ability to do so. And they wanted cash. Neither Madam nor Monsieur indicated they understood me at all, and it fell to the other customer in the shop to say, “They need cash.”

I said, “Where do I get cash?”

The customer shrugged.

The woman said, “Monop’,” and pointed up the street to a little grocery store.

I asked, “How much?” Amazingly, she understood that and said, “105.”¹³The website had said 95 Euros and that was supposed to include a hair cut.

I sighed and put on my coat, my hat, and my scarf, and I walked up the street to the corner market. When I got there, there was no ATM.

Usually, asking questions in French isn’t a problem for me. However, the words would not come. I couldn’t remember how to ask for an ATM or how to ask for help. Instead, using hand jesters the clerk told me to go up the street a ways¹⁴3 blocks it turned out and I would find a retrait¹⁵ATM machine where I could get cash.

I found two. The first one had the glass of the screen smashed.

I am generally uncomfortable in France that the Retrait¹⁶ATM machines are not inside. Instead they are on the side of the building with very small sidewalks to stand on and get bumped into by people walking along hopefully minding their own business¹⁷I really don’t like going to get money at Retrait alone in France..

I selected what I wanted from the machine, and then learned I would be paying a 5 Euro fee.

Of course I would. How could it possibly go any other way?

I got the cash, stuffed it in my pocket, and made my way back to the little store. Still, there was no smile that I returned to pay my bill¹⁸Yes, they had my email and phone number from when I made my appointment, but I probably would have done better, and not had to pay a fee, if they had had to come after me for an electronic transfer of money. Why didn’t I just suggest Venmo or PayPal?.

So, for the price of 105 Euros, roughly $115 when you count in the ATM fee, I missed a lunch I was looking forward to, had my hair covered with chemicals and flat ironed, and did not succeed in cutting of the long locks that I have grown over the past 3 years.

Maybe that is ok. Strictly speaking, some of the hairs on my head were cut. It will take some time to find out if this Botox thing on my hair makes it less frizzy. 

Perhaps the more important thing is I didn’t just stop. I chose to do something kind of crazy — get my hair cut, and treated in a way I had never heard of before, in a city I know is a little scary without practicing tons of phrases in the native language to have some hope of knowing what was going on.

Is there a lesson about physics¹⁹Or chemistry or relationships or psychology in this story? Yes. But. You can find it for yourself.