My $60 haircut (including tip) from the Harrah's Las Vegas spa two weeks before Thanksgiving resulted in good conversation and gossip about old school Vegas from a wisened woman who had lived the past 30 years in the city, but it also netted a bushy 'fro at the slightest growth.
That was my excuse, anyway, when I was given my gate number at LAX and left to head toward it and I heard someone say, "Excuse me, miss! Miss"
I was still a few steps away when I thought, "No, really?" and turned around to see the check-in guy waving my baggage claim tag and the callout directed at me. I sullenly retrieved the tag, half-ignoring the guy in line who mistook the back of me for a girl, and half-wondering if the back of me resembled a semi-attractive girl.
The last time that happened was in D.C. while sporting a similar bushy 'fro and wearing big glasses circa 10 years prior (along with a 10-year-old dated prescription). I was in the drive-thru of a Wendy's, had placed my order, and after paying, took the food and was told, "Thank you, ma'am."
Bushy hair and a round face like the moon and being fluffy don't contribute to being too manly or even grubly. I've really got to lose some weight.
Then again, I could just have one of those amorphous looks.
Today's my last day in Hawaii and while at a drug store yesterday, a woman approached me and said, "Excuse me, could you tell me where the --"
I cut her off. "I don't work here."
"Sorry," she said, "You looked like you knew where you were going."
Our first night here we went to the excellent
Aloha Mixed Plate and next door was a sold-out
Feast at Lele (at $100 per person). When the concierge girls were distracted, I crashed the luau thinking my family would be right behind me.
They weren't, but I stood in the back and watched attractive hula dancers jutting their hips before someone came up to me.
"Excuse me, are you in the show?"
"No," I said, "I'm not
in the show."
"Okay, sorry."
I turned back to the hula dancers when the same guy returned.
"Are you a taxi driver?"
I shook my head and he left.
Finally another guy approached and told me I couldn't be there unless I was a guest.
Thankfully, it wasn't just me in a case of mistaken identity.
After the overpriced $50 buffet at the Tiki Terrace at the
Ka'anapoli Beach Resort, we stood in valet.
One of the guests approached mamagrub's beau and shook his hand, thanking him for the fine meal.
by grubette
Grubby's Hands of the Week
What is The Hammer?
