When unexpected things happen to me, I don’t react quickly unless pressed. This is to say, I am slow-witted. I can always think of an incisive comeback or pertinent question–usually right before I fall asleep. But not always. Today, unfortunately, there was no mistaking me for a courtier or comic.

“Boy, I would sure be happy with a head of hair like that!” quipped the former mayor of Chattanooga as he exited the men’s room.

Now, many people have commented, and usually in a flatteringly-favorable fashion, about my bouffant. Some have, in Dionysian fits, touched, twaddle, twirled, and stroked it, usually without its owners consent.

But this marks a new apogee of fame for my locks, their most famous fan yet. Should Mr. Bob Corker win his Senate 2006 campaign, my hair will have been recognized by one of only an august hundred of the people’s representatives. Perhaps he’ll introduce a bill for me or something. Then I shall rule the known world!

Back to my response, or more properly, back to my lack of a response. Being situated in an unaccommodating position in the men’s room, I could not turn and face Mr. Corker, which took up the valuable mental processing time that was otherwise needed to formulate a crafty and clever response. So instead I twisted my head around and in an unnaturally loud voice for such close quarters backhanded a “Thanks, thank you…”, whipping my neck back from it’s untenable position and possibly inducing whiplash. Don’t worry, I’m not suing. But I work for a law firm, and the only time I see people is during bathroom forays.

June 17th, 2005 | Best, Chattanooga, Hair, Quote