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“Ladies and Gentlemen we are beginning our initial approach into Atlanta. Please return your tray tables and pull your seatbacks to their upright and locked position. We’ll be landing shortly.” the flight attendant’s voice came over the loudspeaker. I continued to read. I was ready to land an hour ago.
My tears had stopped and now an annoying irritation has come over me. We’ve been on the plane for almost ten hours and there is still Customs to go through. I bought Kat some Captain Morgan and I’m trying to think about how I’m going to get around security. For whatever reason after stepping off the plane (when we’ve already been through extensive security in Sweden) we have to go through it again in Atlanta. The only place I’ve been in the last twelve hours is an airport and a plane.
I feel the plane beginning to drop and close my book and stare out the window. Almost home. Kind of. The plane touches the ground and moves to the gate in Concourse E. Once the doors open I’m outta there. I turn my phone on and text Olov, “Landed!” It’s almost midnight there now, making it almost 6pm in Atlanta. I’ve received a plethora of voicemails and text messages making me smile. I text everyone as quickly as possible before approaching Customs where I had to turn the phone off. I hand the pretty black woman behind the counter my passport, managing a smile.
“Welcome home Miss Nipper.” she smiles, stamps my passport and hands it back.
“Thank you.” I take it and keep moving. I now have to “check” my bag with Kat’s alcohol in it. I do that, and go through security again. I feel like I won’t be able to stand up straight for too much longer. My eyes are so heavy. For whatever reason I don’t change my Swedish money for US money as I head to baggage claim to get my bag again. I remembered I had a five dollar bill in my bag and thought that would get me through MARTA. Kat said she’d pick me up at the Lindberg station. As I’m waiting for the bag I pick up my phone and scroll through the list of contacts until I’ve found what I’m looking for and dial. After a few rings a woman’s voice picks up.
“Thank you for calling Art and Science salon located in Evanston Illinois. We are currently closed. Our business hours are…”
I hung up. Dammit. Try again tomorrow. I’m going to Chicago! EEK! I’m still too tired to talk, but I wanted this done before I change my mind again.
My bag appears. I snatch it up and head to MARTA. Folks, they’re charging a five dollar “handling fee” now at MARTA. (probably airport only) That is making the grand total come to $6.75. Dammit. I push my five dollar bill back into my bag. I find my debit card and try that. It won’t read it. My blood is boiling when I call Kat.
“Kat!” I snap when she picks up.
“What’s up?”
“This damn thing won’t take my card and I don’t have the cash to get on MARTA being it costs SIX SEVENTY FIVE to get on now!”
“Ok, don’t worry. I’m at the house. I’m going to change clothes and I’ll be down to pick you up. Meet me at the lower level.”
“Kay. I’m sorry. Thank you.”
“No problem!”
We hang up and I wonder if Atlanta is still in a gas crisis. Sure enough when she comes to get me she says there’s no gas around home.
“It’s worse now than when you left.” she tells me.
“Glorious.” I roll my eyes. I left the land of clean air and public transportation for the land of smog, cars and no gas to put in the cars…
“Sooo…” Kat smiled. “How was it?!”
“EEEKKKK!” I squeal, hands clapping. I’d give a standing ovation if I weren’t in the car. “The MOST AMAZING trip ever!”
“Tell me everything!”
It took me the entire ride home to tell her about the week. It was hard forming sentences and I was afraid I was forgetting things but I managed to get it all out.
“Sorry.” I said, my head falling back on the headrest. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I slept a full, straight, eight hours the whole time I was there.”
“Oh, you’re gonna sleep good tonight!” she laughed. “Try to stay awake a little once we get home though.”
“I know. I want sushi.” I laugh.
Once we’re home, I call our favorite sushi place and order. Kat doesn’t want any and before she’s about the retreat to her side of the house, I say “Kat?” She turned around and looked at me. “While I was out there I decided to go ahead and move to Chicago in November.”
“Really?!” It was her turn to clap. I have no idea where we got this from, this clapping thing. It’s most funny when we both end up clapping at the same time. “When we going?”
“I have to call the salon again. They were closed when I got off the plane. I’d like to start work the first week. If they’ll have me…”
“You just let me know!” she smiled.
Later, belly full of sushi, I collapse into bed dying to see my co-workers tomorrow, but not really ready to cut hair.
The next morning I roll out of bed and go to Inman Perk. I missed it but not enough to be entirely excited to be walking through this door instead of Creem. I sit in my usual place with my usual cup of coffee and send email for a little while until it’s time to get ready for work.
I’m beaming when I walk through the doors of the salon, so happy to see the girls at the front desk.
“You’re back! How was it? What did you do? Do you have pictures? The questions and hugs come fast.
“It was amazing!” I laugh. “I didn’t want to leave!”
“You look amazing!” Shali exclaims. “Like you got some rest.”
“Something like that.” I laughed. “I still need to catch up on sleep.”
I took my work tickets and head to my station. My co-worker is blowing out his client. He smiles and turns off his dryer.
“Hi!” I bound over to him.
“How was it?” he hugged me hard.
“Amazing.” I can’t stop smiling.
“You look incredible.”
“Thanks” I still feel a little glazed but I’m glad no one sees this.
“You have to tell me everything.” he says, turning the dryer back on.
“Absolutely.” I laugh and walk to my station.
I look to see who my first client is. It’s Lauren. I love her. I do. She’s got amazing hair but she’s more indecisive than I am. I’m not in the mood for mind reading today. When she comes in and sits in my chair, I try hard to focus and to care.
“So I want to grow it out but I also want these layers out completely.” she tells me.
I’ve told her many times that eliminating her layers is a bad idea and yet she insists on it.
“Sure.” I nod, not in the mood for convincing. “Do you want to see an inch or two coming off then?”
“I was thinking about bringing it up to my chin.”
Um…
“Really?” That would be almost five inches off.
“Would that be ok?” she asks.
“Of course but it’s going to look heavy with out the layers.”
“Whatever. I just want them out.”
I get her shampooed and start cutting. Obviously her neck will show when her hair is chin length. When my blade is done severing that first section, she freaks.
“Oh, that is short. I’ve never had it that short before.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Ok. I’ve only cut one section. I can leave the rest of your hair longer if you feel this will be too short. It’s just that now, you’re going to have this short section underneath.”
“Whatever. Just cut it. It’ll be fine.” she tells me.
I keep cutting, feeling the skin on my chest heat up. I remind myself that she told me to cut it. Why am I here right now and not in Sweden? I said I wasn’t ready to come back…
I finish and I think she likes it. No idea.
In between clients I’m back and forth to various co-workers explaining various parts of my trip. I could hang out with them all day.
“How was the food? So your host was nice? Did you see this or that? What’s was the weather like? How was the language barrier?” The questions were nonstop but I was happy to explain everything.
This weird sort of depression sets in a little as the day goes on though. It’s like I’m grieving the loss of this trip. It’s back to reality and I’m already missing the delicious anonymity of being somewhere else entirely. After talking to some of my clients, I see I’m not alone in my feelings and I’m relieved.
“Oh yeah girl, I cried all the way back from Italy” one client said.
“My husband and I tried to find ways to move to France.” another client laughed.
“I didn’t want to come home…ever.” a co-worker explained about her two months spent abroad.
My tears had stopped on the plane but my brain is still processing everything and it’s too hard to work and process at the same time. I think about calling Chicago again but then decide to give it one more day. Just incase…