As I’m getting maybe one of the worst haircuts in my entire lifetime, and that includes some of the old “bowl” haircuts my mom used to give me, I had tons of ideas for some of these “wonders,” including wondering how long it’s been since your last, bad haircut, if you ever felt you were going to be stabbed while getting your hair cut, if you wanted to just jump out of the chair and run while getting your hair cut, and wondering if you ever had a haircut where the person cutting your hair didn’t ask you, somewhere during the process, if it looked okay, instead just saying you were done and letting you go on your merry way.
I know, what does this have to do with Fleetwood Mac and/or the Eagles?
Well, let me tell you.
The girl cutting my hair was in her twenties. I know this because she commented how her friends were all in their twenties also, and she couldn’t believe they were having kids since that meant they couldn’t go out drinking and have fun anymore. Sure, that seemed a little peculiar as I know a lot of people with kids having a ton of fun, but hey, what do I know? As I’m sitting there I hear the music in the background and for whatever reason they are using iHeart Radio and listening to KOST 103.5, because, I guess, Chicago doesn’t have any decent Adult Contemporary stations. “Hotel California” from the Eagles comes on, and the girl makes a comment how she’s a huge Fleetwood Mac fan. “Okay,” I thought, “I’ll try to converse some more since the entire ‘kids don’t let you drink anymore’ conversation has stalled.” “Oh, are you going to their concert coming to town.” Yes, Fleetwood Mac was touring again and coming to Chicago in the fall. She replied “No,” and then said “This is Fleetwood Mac, right?”
Instantly in my head was “You are a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, but, umm, you confuse them with the Eagles?”, but I nicely comment, “No, this is the Eagles,” to which she replies “Oh. My dad is a huge Eagles fan, and my mom love Fleetwood Mac,” or maybe it was the other way around, but in any case I went back to screaming in my head wondering what my hair was going to look like at the end of this because, did I mention, that she didn’t have the chair so you could see yourself in the mirror as she was cutting your hair?
I do understand she was in her twenties, and haircut wonders aside, as I was driving away with tears in my eyes wondering how I would explain this haircut to anyone and if my wife would love me anymore, I couldn’t help but wonder: Would you confuse “Hotel California” as a Fleetwood Mac song?
That’s it for this one! L8R!!