When you are alone in a new city, especially an expensive one, you have to ask around for recommendations.

I asked the concierge last night, Alex, a fabulous Colombian man, if he knew of any good salons nearby the hotel, he said he’d check on some for me.

He works the night shift so I wouldn’t see him again until after I needed the appointment. 

A girl needs to have her hair did for a formal wedding. 

Especially when the girl in question only really knows how to air dry her hair and pray to God that it dries cute.

Which, since the Lord has been merciful, it usually does. 

However those big messy curls wouldn’t work for this wedding. I needed professional help.

So after going for a swim and sunbathing this morning I meet Ricardo, the morning concierge, and he recommended his friend Jay.

“He’s been cutting hair for years.” He says. 

After I set the appointment, in Spanish of course (this is Miami after all), he says, “You’ll know him. He’s the bald one with a tattoo across the back of his head.”

It is a credit to my parents that I don’t even blink when he says that; they raised an overly polite child. In spite of the dark sense of foreboding that last sentence gave me I smiled and said thank you before running to my room to wash off the sand and salt water.

I changed, basked in the glory of air conditioning before heading off towards the area around Lincoln Avenue. I located the salon first, but since I still had about an hour and a half till my appointment I wandered towards Lincoln mall to grab something to eat. But wandered too long, so indecisive about what I wanted and I ended up getting a small cup of gelato and sat in the outdoor seating under a palm tree.

I really cannot get over those palm trees.

Once it came time for my appointment I walked back over to the little salon.

Now, I’m not a snob, but when it comes to salons I am a super snob. I once pulled wet feet out of a pedicure tub when I saw the guy clean the one next to me with dish soap. Guys, I do not fuck around.

I like them fancy, and I like them modern. However, I don’t have South Beach “fancy” kind of money so this little neighborhood salon had to do. Also, it’s a Friday afternoon, everyone knows that’s the busiest time for a salon. I took what I could get.

So Jay, the bald man with the tattoo on the back of his head, leads me over to get my hair washed. 

There was no gentle scalp massage and my top got a little wet. Small strike. But I let it slide because of the small talk and he sent someone to bring me coffee.

We head over to his station and he starts to blow dry my hair. He doesn’t really ask me what I want, which bothered me. I am very particular about my hair, down to the point of micro managing. So I tell him I like volume and that I would like him to use the round brush.

The ladies from the salon are watching me. They like my hair color. They like my hair.

A nail tech asks Jay if I want a manicure (in Spanish). She looks at me. I say no thank you. She grabs my hands. Looks at my nails. Shrugs.

My manicure has not held up. I do need one. I will not pay for one.

I just a lot of pulling and brushing and mild teasing.

I am concerned but I don’t say anything. 

A lady is trying to sell me shampoo to brighten my red. 

She says it looks good.

I’m like ok.

He asks if I want hair spray. I beg for it. The humidity here is not a joke. Keeping my hair straight under these conditions is not a game, it is a battle to be waged.

He turns me around and I look in the mirror and I hate it.

It looks old fashioned and helmet-y. 

I don’t know how to say that.

So I smile and formulate a plan to fix it in my room. There is too much spray and my hair feels crunchy.

I cannot stand crunchy hair. 

“Have you tried having your hair longer?” He asks. “Not that this doesn’t look good. You can pull it off because you have a pretty face (tienes la cara linda), but you should try it long.”

“Thanks.” I say. “It’s usually really long. I just chopped it off.”

I go to pay. This is South Beach. It’s pricey, even for this small place. I pay. I leave a tip. I put on my sunglasses and head out.

I bought a curling iron at CVS. I combed out the hairspray.

It looks much better.