"It's so bizarre", thought Staci. "I'm 22 years old and I have been styling hair for three years now. I have a home, I pay my own bills, and I grocery shop every week. I feel like I've been in the real world for quite some time now. However, all of my friends are just now stepping into the real world. They have big dreams and they are determined to fulfill those dreams. They are moving to big cities. They are marrying the loves of their lives. They are moving on while I am staying behind."
Historians with glasses, high school teachers with cardigan sweaters, business men with power striped suits, graphic designers with crazy hair, and accountants with... well, accountants don't really have distinct qualities. Anyway, these people were now her friends. They were no longer college students and they were no longer able to stay up until 3:00 am or go on lovely mountain hikes on Monday afternoons (these hikes used to help ease Staci's immense hatred of Mondays.)
"I don't know what I want anymore!" Staci felt she had chosen an anti-climatic road - a road of complacency... maybe even emptiness. "I don't know what I want to do right now. I just know that I need to move to a big city."
The thought of moving to a big city raised her spirits tremendously. This was all Staci would think about; it became a distraction. She no longer listened to her clients as they chatted with her (and that is an important part of being a hair stylist). Staci used to be such a good listener.
New York City seemed like an appealing city. The honking of car horns were perpetual. The streets were painted yellow by countless taxi cabs that were driven by foreign men with incomprehensible names. Around every street corner came captivating smells from vendors who sold hot dogs, roasted nuts, and falafel. Unfortunately, the sidewalks were covered with used bubble gum, too dark and old to distinguish the flavor. Pigeons invaded the sidewalks in abrasive searches for food; they were close enough to touch (though no one would ever want to). With the realization of the faults and vices of New York City, Staci escaped her dream world as she was styling her client's hair. "No thanks," she said out loud. This confused her client.
"Chigaco! What about Chicago?" thought Staci to herself. Oh, how she loved the thought of endless art exhibits. The notion of walking down the halls of so many different museums was absolutely enchanting. The temptation to reach out and touch the exhibits was irresistible, especially with the oil paintings. The rough layers and the intricate brush strokes sent tingles down her spine.
Then came came the realization of the weather in Chicago. Chicago is near the Great Lakes - which would make it incredibly cold and windy. The thought of messy hair blowing arbitrarily in all directions was mental anguish. "I'm a hair stylist," said Staci (bringing again, confusion to her client). "I can't tolerate that. No thank you, Chicago."
Philadelphia, Los Angeles, Austin, Boston, Miami, Atlanta, Baltimore, Cleveland, and St. Louis... every major city seemed both terrific and dreadful.
The anxiety that was rooted in unanswered questions grew stronger by the day, until Thursday. Mrs. Rost had an appointment on that Thursday. She was a kind, middle-aged lady who always smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. She was a beautiful women with freckled skin, and long red hair. Her most noticeable flaw was her distinct laugh, and the fact that she used it when it was completely unprovoked.
Her laugh was an ear piercing "cackle" followed by hard inhalations that were determined to hurt the back of her throat. (It seemed as though she had asthma.) Completely unprovoked, Mrs. Rost laughed at her own mundane question. "So, how has life been treatin' ya' sweetie? (flem) bahahah (gasp) ho (gasp) ho (gasp) hee!" This was the first thing she said as she approached Staci's chair.
Regardless of her silly laugh, Staci loved her. They had known each other for years. Jimmy, Mrs. Rost's son, had been friends with Staci since the 4th grade. "My Jimmy is leaving me," said Mrs. Roast in an almost facetious tone. "He's going to study abroad in Italy. He'll be there for an entire semester."
"That's it, that's it, that's it!" thought Staci. "Europe, I should move to Europe. Why not Scotland? It's filled with magnificent castles. Oh, I love castles. I don't mind the rain and I won't even have to learn a new language. Scotland just sounds... magical. I guess I should get a passport."
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