Help! My Head's Caught and I Can't Get It Out!

          This is a horrifying tale. For the weak of heart, go back to the blog you were on previously, and pass on this post.

          It all began because of my Russian hair stylist. She is determined--with each of my appointments--to jack my bill up. Shampooing...another $5. Blow drying...another $5.  A professional dye job...I shudder to think.

          She tries to bully me into getting my hair washed, and lures me to the vicinity of the sink with a bubbling pot of borscht and a television playing "Dr. Zhiavago" on a non-stop loop. However, I've become wily, and wash my hair and then drive (very fast  at the posted speed limit) to the salon.

          Every time I look forward to the magic happening...Sadly, it never happens.

              Yesterday I made an appointment for 5:30. That meant that a lot of gas would be wasted driving home (in the wrong direction) to shampoo and then doubling back. So, I thought ahead and brought some shampoo and a towel to work.

          At 4:01, our school becomes a ghost town. At least on most days. I figured I could quickly shampoo, and slip out without anyone seeing me, so I headed down the hall to the staff bathroom.

         Locking the door (it's a one-staller affair), I turned on the faucet and bent over the sink. I knew it would not be an easy task, as the sink is very, very tiny. Not only is the sink small, but the faucet really juts out, taking more than its share of the sink space. Prepared to get into some interesting yoga poses, I began to get my hair wet.

         To do so, I had to angle my head, get one side wet, stand on my tiptoes and splash water on the very back, then pull my head out and do the same thing on the other side.

        Then something catastrophic happened. My head got stuck. Wedged under the faucet, with no room to pull out and disengage.

        Turning my head to the left and trying to get unjammed--no luck. Trying from the right side had no effect, either. The metal of the faucet was digging and scraping my scalp.

        Three and a half hours later, the door's knob had been removed, the floor and part of the hallway was flooded, a fire engine had to be called, six firemen laughed their rubber boots off, and my principal had been called back into the building...I was finally free.

The lesson I learned? Pay the $5. Retaining my skin cells is worth it.