After my discouraging trip to the movie theater on Monday night in a failed attempt to see The Dark Knight, my roommate and I were at least entertained to witness a blonde do what blondes do: something dumb. Now, I have several blonde female friends, and they’re quite smart (though they do have their blonde moments from time to time), so I don’t mean to pander to stereotypes here. Well, OK, yes, I do.
This isn’t going to come across as all that funny to those who didn’t witness such a thing, but as we stopped at a traffic signal in downtown Bellevue, the city where I live (near Seattle), we observed as the woman in front of us – a dirty blonde – started to work on her hair. This is fine, as when I sit at traffic signals and have nothing to do, I usually a) scratch myself, b) stick my hand through my sun roof or, generally, c) try to check out cute dirty blondes in cars around me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see if she was cute or not, but I could see her playing with her hair… and, well, she didn’t make it too far.
She first straightens her hair with her hands, and then starts making a move as if she’s planning to convert her free flow into a ponytail. As I’ve observed women all over the world put their hair into a ponytail, I have to assume this is pretty simple, though I generally am amazed that women know exactly how to turn chaos into nice hairdos. Anyway, while she’s holding her almost-ponytail in one hand, the light turns green.
An average person, I assume, would give up on their hairstyle attempt and wait until another light. After all, it’s not like she had started braiding it in an elaborate manner – she had just grabbed her hair with one hand. But does she let go? No. As a good blonde would do, she keeps one hand on the steering wheel and proceeds to navigate through five or six more lights and over two miles worth of road. The road is entirely straight, with just a few hills and dips involved. Not that I encourage it, but if she really wanted to finish her hair – presumably by just tying a band around the ponytail – she could have taken her other hand off the wheel for a split second to do so.
Instead, she holds her hair with her elbow sticking out toward the passenger’s side. The multiple green traffic signals don’t thwart her. The miles of open road don’t thwart her. And even when I finally turned into my apartment complex, she was still holding her hair like it was a Faberge egg. Who knows how many more miles she carried that hair.
Anyway, not that funny now that I’ve committed it to paper, but it was pretty hilarious at the time.