The first thing I noticed when we walked into the dermatologist’s office was the enormous TV in the waiting room.
“Jesus…”
“What’s the matter?” Nancy asked while signing in.
“Look at the size of that tv. It’s got to be 70” minimum.”
She handed the clipboard to the receptionist and we went to sit down.
“Here take my coat,” I said, handing it to Nancy, “I’m going to the bathroom, you go get us a seat.”
When I came out. Nancy was sitting directly under the TV.
“What are you doing? Nobody does this?”
“Does what?”
“Sits under the TV. You can’t see it.”
“I don’t want to see it. I have a book.”
I sat next to her and saw my reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall. It looked like I was balancing the massive TV on my head.
I felt my hair touch the bottom of the screen. “Crap, Nance, I’m touching it! I’m moving. Let’s go.”
I got up and sat across from the receptionist who looked at me, then at Nancy, then back to me. I waved to Nancy with that ‘come over’ wave little kids give their friends when they find a bug. She smiled, shook her head, and went back to her book. I waved again, this time only getting the receptionist’s attention- whose reaction got her coworker’s attention. They both looked at me. I very deftly turned my ‘come over’ wave into a ‘hi there’ wave. The receptionist waved back with a puzzled look.
I did that loud/whisper thing across the room, “Nance…NANCE” (she definitely heard me because a man near her, who I thought was asleep, wearing a heating oil company’s hat tilted the brim up and looked at me.
Confirmed: Nancy was ignoring me.
I reluctantly went and sat next to her.
A woman’s voice called out, “Nancy?”
“Yes?”
“The doctor will see you now. Come with me.”
She dog-eared the page, closed the book and dropped it in my lap. “I’ll be a while. They’re doing a complete body scan as well.”
There I sat- under the Jumbotron- while static electricity coaxed the hair on the top of my head to stand and touch the screen.
I repeatedly patted it down but it would only be a few seconds before it again slowly rose and stood at attention.
By now all the waiting room seats were filled with clients who, much to my dismay, were transfixed by the local news and weather playing atop my skull.
I stared at their glazed eyes while I continually patted the top of my head.
I thought about the imbalance of negative and positive charges in my hair and on the TV set.
(Head pat.)
The best fix is to discharge the atoms by grounding. I’d need something conductive and connected to earth.
(Head pat.)
There was nothing; the chairs were wood and cushioned…
(Head pat.)
…and the room was carpeted.
Some of the hypnotized waiting room zombies began lowering their sights to my head.
I grabbed the armrests locking my hands there so I wouldn’t draw the interest of the rest of them by patting my head again.
My hair stood as proud as a patriot.
It would’ve saluted if it could.
Now everyone lost interest in local news and weather. Why watch that when Albert Einstein is giving a hair show?
I went into the bathroom and touched the faucet, a common ground to earth, to send those asshole protons and neutrons packing.
That’s when it dawned on me: wet my hair. If I dribble some water on my hair it will hold it down and stave off those atoms looking to start shit with me.
I put a few drops on and looked in the mirror.
A little more.
I ran my hands under the water and held my fingers over my head and let them drip on me.
I did this a few times and ran my hands through my hair.
The doorknob jiggled. It was being tested for locked. Damn it. Had I gone in to use the toilet, I’d would have locked it.
The door swung slowly ajar and the peak of the oil hat emerged like a turtle’s head from its shell.
He looked at my hands over my head and closed the door without ever coming in.
Had I checked the bathroom mirror before sitting back down, I’d have seen that the top of my hair was flat and the sides jutted out.
I passed my hand over my head- nothing. No defiant charged hair. I relaxed and opened Nancy’s book. I looked over the top of it and saw everyone obviously marveling at my solution. The heating oil guy’s eyes met mine. I raised my hand in a weak wave. He returned it.
Nancy came out. “What the hell happened to your hair? It’s wet!”
“I told you I didn’t want to sit here.”