What Did You Do To Your Hair?!

I was standing at the former bestsellers bargain section at Barnes & Noble last night, holding a couple of possible purchases in my hands and browsing through some more. While my head was down, reading the back of a book trying to determine if I wanted it, I hear a guy say “Excuse me” and I turn to the left where the voice came from.

The guy does a double take, startled.

“What did you do to your hair??!!” he asks, shocked.

Now, I would understand if someone who saw me all the time with straight hair was surprised to see me curly now and asked what was going on. But. This man never saw me before. Yet he was taken aback by my fro. He seemed as though a big mess of hair was the last thing we was expecting in his encounter with me.

“It’s curly,” I responded. Wrly.

“How did you get it like that??” he sputtered,  with a look of surprise still on his face, clearly confused as to why I would ever go out of this house looking like this. “It’s . . . natural?” he ventured.

I told him it was natural and then he went on to his real reason for speaking to me. Once he recovered from his surprise at my appearance (do I really look that bad? I kinda thought I look nice…), he explained that he is looking for a book for his little sister’s birthday. I look like a big reader; do I have a recommendation for a  really great book?

I asked him how old his sister is (I’m thinking in her 20s FYI) and he started laughing. “When I said little sister, I didn’t mean younger! I meant little, like you.”

Yes, I have a small frame. That doesn’t mean my younger brother goes around calling me his little sister. Generally, that is a term reserved for the younger sibling. I opted to not bring this point up.

I told him to get the Time Traveler’s Wife and assured him he can’t go wrong. He looked around, confused, and I explained that the book would be in the Fiction section, that the author’s last name is Niffenegger and he could go to that section and find it.

He still didn’t get it.

First he wanted the details about the book. Is it dorky sci-fi? No. Is it, like, about time travel? It is about a guy who can time travel and a girl who can’t, they meet when she is 6 and again when he is 29, it is very cool, it is my favorite book of all time, everyone I know who has read it loves it. He looks skeptical. Come on, I was just doing him a favor. If he was so doubtful he should have just walked away.

Instead, he asks me if the fiction section is on the floor we were on. I don’t know, go find it. He didn’t go. Instead he kept talking. And talking. And talking.

He told me he really wanted to get his sister a book but didn’t know what to get and wasn’t impressed by the trashy novels on the bargain table.

The novels on this table were by authors such as Alice Hoffman, Amy Tan, Anite Shreve. Not trashy. But whatever.

He told me about how he could tell that I am a super intelligent reader (then why was I at the “trashy” table?). He said at first he thought I was an artist, but when I looked up and saw me he knew I was a banker. I am not a banker, I quickly informed him. Yes, you are a banker; you look like a banker! No, I am not a banker, I said again. Then what do you do, he asked.

Uhh. I work at a bank. But not as a banker!

I need to add — why did he think I was so smart? Because I was holding a couple of novels in my hands? Anyway.

He still wouldn’t. stop. talking.

The boy was waiting for me downstairs and we were going out to dinner. I also wanted to check out the books down there. I started glancing longingly at the escalator wondering how I could make my escape. He noticed my escalator directed glances and asked if I was meeting someone. “My boyfriend is downstairs,” I said. “Oh, ok,” the guy said. He then continued talking to me. Talking on and on and on. It was painful. What was he saying? I don’t even know! It was really, really weird. I tried ending the conversation by saying in a wrap-up voice, “So, the author’s last name starts with an N, I’m sure you’ll find it there…” But that just made him question me once again on the location of the fiction section. Just because I was physically in a bookstore does not mean I know the layout of the 4-story bookstore!

And then he was still talking! It was getting really creepy because he just wouldn’t let me go. I know, I know, I could have walked away. Instead, I was fake smiling and acting kinda weirded out and looking around trying to figure out how to get away but didn’t want to just walk away because I am too nice of a person. I was hoping the boy would come looking for me and find me but that didn’t happen. I really wish I could tell you everything he was saying, but I wasn’t even paying attention. I was too busy planning my escape route. Also, I think I blocked some of it out of my memory for protection.

I once again brought the conversation back to the Time Traveler’s Wife and this time noticed the fiction section was right in front of where we were standing. I pointed at the racks and wished him luck.

I decided not to get the book I was thinking about getting yesterday. It also belongs in the fiction section. The author’s last name is P, which is a little too close for comfort to the N.

And I jumped on the escalator and away I went. While I was on the first floor, my eyes kept darting around, worried he would reappear. Or that he would follow me.

Neither happened.