Kanye West and I go to get mall haircuts. I get ready in the change room then walk into the hair studio in only a t-shirt and underwear. The two girls working don’t say anything but Kanye calls me out for being inappropriate.
I honestly don’t see anything wrong with it. Like any astute client, I didn’t want to get my pants full of hair. However, as I’m sitting down in the chair, I kind of have to pee. This now feels inappropriate so I quickly leave and tell the barber I’ll be back in a minute.
I return to the change room, which is shared with a nearby hostel. An older foreign man who’s related to or is Bobby Cannavale is staying at the hostel. He messes up his eye doing something foolish. The younger guys look up to him and prod him to tell them stories of his various conquests.
“Life is about stories, and crazy nights,” is all he says.
They appreciate what they perceive as a cryptic and enlightened response.
After leaving the change room, I wander around the mall looking for the salon, but it’s nowhere to be found. I walk through the women’s section of a department store and get sprayed incessantly with perfume by several Kardashian women, who are arranged in a gauntlet situation.
Maggie is explaining to her bourgeois parents that she’s gong to buy some junk food for her birthday. They disapprove, not able to see why she would ever do such a thing, but she takes a stand.
I find a mall map and see that there are several hair places. There’s no “You Are Here” sticker anyway, so I’m completely lost. Kanye is waving me over but I neglect to notice him.
There’s a long, low-angle escalator, which leads me to think I may have accidentally ended up on a different floor.
I don’t ever find the hair place again, but I look in the mirror, and fortunately or not, I’m completely bald.