Ugly Cat Speaks

Monday, December 27, 2010

Bobby pins, a Hitchhiker, and the Police...

or, "My Christmas Eve Adventure." First let me say two things 1) this is a true story, 2) yes, I have already been lectured by the police and my Mother regarding my actions.

This story begins on Friday, December 17th when I got my haircut at a local, low-cost hair salon. I wanted bangs, but I wanted to keep them long proportionate to the length of the rest of the hair. I specifically said that I wanted to keep my hair long (it was below shoulder-length before the cut) It looked fine, though a little shorter than I wanted, right up until the point when it dried fully and I realized that not only was the length WAY too short, but the layers were even shorter. Oddly enough, the long bangs were the only thing she got right. I played with my hair for about a week trying to find a decent style that suited me (I still haven't found it).  On Friday, December 24th, I was preparing to journey to my Mom's house in the Eastern part of the state. I had the brilliant idea of twisting my layers and bobby pinning them up during my drive down the pike. When I was about halfway to my Mom's I would take out the twists (which would still be wet) and I would have a nice wave to my hair, giving the new style volume and, hopefully, a decent look.  I didn't care that I looked like a cross between a punk rocker and a haute couture fashion model who's head was placed on a average woman's body, I figured I would be in the car and no one I knew would ever see me.

Some time after exit 9 on the MA Pike , I saw a white van on the side of the road and a woman with her thumb sticking out. Normally, I would either ignore her or call the police on my cell to report the situation, but something compelled me to pull over. It took me a while to safely pull over, so I had to back up a little bit to get to a place where the woman could safely approach the passenger side of my car. I prudently placed all of my personal belongings in the back seat far away from arm's length of the passenger's seat. The woman walked up to my car and I rolled down the window. She said "he left me here to get gas, can I get a ride to the nearest gas station?"  She seemed decent enough - lucid, no indication in her eyes that she was on drugs or drunk or otherwise a psychopath. She looked a little ragged like someone who's been out in the cold on the MA Pike might look, so I told her to get in. She introduced herself, shook my hand and thanked me; and we drove towards the next exit. The next exit was Rt 290 - a major road. I was hesitant about veering so far off my own path home, but decided it was probably the best thing to do. As we approached the exit, the woman asked me if I was going to Boston. I told her no, but I was heading in that direction (obviously). She asked if she could drive with me since her ultimate destination was Boston. She then said "I feel safe with you."  [That's when my spidey sense kicked in.]  I told her we could continue and I could drop her off at the next MA Pike rest station. As we drove she then asked to be dropped off at a hospital [no, I didn't ask her why].  The next exit was towards Worcester (Rts 146 & 20). I took that exit figuring I would find a hospital near the main route in Worcester. Unfortunately, after traveling on Rt 20 East for a while, I ended up in Shrewsbury before I saw any signs of a hospital.

I decided to stop at a gas station to get directions.  Let me state at this time that the woman still did not appear to be in any state of distress. She wasn't agitated or upset. She was calmly sitting in my passenger seat, with her hands placed visibly on her legs. It was almost as if she were trying to comfort me by letting me know that she wasn't a threat. Even still, when I got to the gas station it occurred to me that I did not want to leave the woman in my car alone while I asked for directions. Luckily, a police car drove up behind me. I waved frantically at the officer who pulled up behind me and approached my car. Upon seeing the police car, the woman calmly announced to me that she had been kidnapped, raped and beaten for three days. I told the woman that the police officer could help her. I got out of my car and told the police my story. The police officer took my statement, talked with the woman whose story seemed to change a little bit as she spoke with the officer. The ambulance arrived and took her away and the police officer gave me a stern but concerned talking to about picking up people in this day and age. He also commented that the woman was most likely a former drug addict since she had mentioned being on methadone and had a shelter card instead of any form of ID. I explained to him that I don't normally do that, but since it was Christmas Eve it seemed the right thing to do.

The police officer left and I got into my car. I looked in the rear view mirror to back up and noticed the twisted knots of hair on top of my head. "Oh my god!", I thought, I must have looked like a crazy person to the cop! [Here is an approximate picture of what I looked like. Sadly, I did not have the foresight to take a photo of myself at that time.]  I quickly took out the bobby pins, but my hair had completely dried by then. My wavy effect had morphed into full-on crazy curls. It sort of looked like this but more horizontal. I spent the rest of the car ride home trying to flatten out the bozo curls protruding from my head.

I arrived at my mother's house (and to my family who had not yet seen the new short haircut I had complained about over the phone), and began unloading my car of Christmas presents and overnight bags. When my sister saw my hair she stifled an "oh my god". I cautioned her "Don't look at my hair, it's a long story involving bobby pins, a hitchhiker and the police."  And, after telling the story, I got lectured by both my YOUNGER sister and my mother about how I "could have been killed", etc, etc.

The moral of the story is this: No matter how much I want them, I can never have bangs!


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