The Hair Dye Incident

There are a few stories that I am well known for amongst my friends. Stories like the time I got stuck in an elevator in an empty building, or the night I was lost in Amsterdam for several hours with a broken ankle. However, there is one story that has always out shadowed the others. It is the story that I am most well known for amongst my old college friends. It is the story that has become known as; The Hair Dye Incident.

The Hair Dye Incident

It all started one day when I was still in College. I was in the student art shop looking for (strangely enough) art supplies when I was suddenly approached by a very upset girl who was wearing what seemed to be a scientist’s white lab coat. She was almost in tears as she explained her situation and asked for my help. It turned out she was a student on the beautician’s course and it was the day of a very important practical exam. The exam involved dying someone’s hair. It sounded simple enough. The only problem was it had to be someone with a light hair color and the person who was originally going to be her model had fallen ill. She needed to find a replacement fast. She had been frantically searching when she had spotted me. My light coloured ginger hair made me the perfect replacement. While fighting back hopeful tears she begged me to stand in for the missing model.

I couldn’t really say no, not without being a heartless mean person. I figured there was no harm in getting my hair dyed anyway. It might be interesting to see what I looked like with dark hair. Maybe I would look cool. So I said yes. In her excitement she gave me a hug and thanked me. She told me where and when the exam was, thanked me again and then left. I felt good about myself. I had just made someone happy. It’s good to be selfless once in a while and help people… especially if you are a single teenager and there is chance of getting their phone number later.

The Exam and The Surprise Question

When I arrived at the exam location later that day she was relieved to see that I had kept my word. After all I was a stranger and might not have shown up. I sat down on what looked like a doctor’s examining table while a stern looking examiner started to take notes on her clipboard. The girl gave me a nervous smile, probably just pre exam nerves… Then, just as we were about to start, she suddenly asked the question…

“Would you prefer to have your eye lashes or eye brows dyed?”

“WHAT THE HELL?” shouted my brain.

“Hu?” came out of my mouth.

There was fear in her eyes as she repeated the question. I suddenly had the fate of her whole exam in my hands. If I walked out or made it too obvious that she had not informed me of the options up front she would probably fail. Had I been tricked into doing this? Had she just forgotten the details in her roller coaster of emotion that morning? I tried my best not to let on that something was wrong and told her I wanted my eye brows dyed. She quietly pointed out that dyed eyebrows might look quite strange. It seemed to me like I was going to look strange either way but agreed loudly (for the examiners benefit) and told her that I had changed my mind and wanted my eye lashes dyed. I figured I could just wash the eye lash dye out afterwards anyway.

So I sat there with my eyes shut as she applied hair dye to my eye lashes. Ten minutes later it was finished and I was able to open my eyes again. As everything slowly came back into the focus the examiner was happily taking notes again. The girl asked me if I had any questions so I asked how easy it would be to wash the hair dye out.

“Oh… it’s permanent,” she nervously replied.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” went my brain.

“Hu?” came out of my mouth again.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. I think my brain had shut down a bit and entered a state of mild shock when she had muttered the words, “It’s permanent.” Unable to process what had just happened I simply answered their questions, shook their hands and left as quickly as I could. I never found out if the girl had forgotten to give me all the details of the exam or if she had held them back on purpose. I didn’t say anything to the examiner about my suspicions either. I simply didn’t know what to say.

The Aftermath

It was not long before my class mates were enjoying the joke of what had happened. They were quick to point out that I looked like I was wearing mascara. For the weeks that followed I wore sunglasses whenever I could. I had to explain to everyone who asked why I looked like a Rocky Horror Show fan and I spent every available moment in front of the mirror trying to pull out my own eye lashes.

And that is the story of hair dye gone wrong known as the Hair Dye Incident. I never got the girls phone number. It was probably for the best anyway. Misdirection and hair dye are not the best bases for a good relationship. All I know is she better have passed her exam and become the world’s best damn beautician for what happened to have all been worth it.