Fiesta Salons

The fact that I walked into and right back out of no less than half a dozen salons before finally just giving up does not at all mean that this place was really the best choice.
The first salon I walked into was populated by septuagenarians with cotton candy hair. No. That wouldn’t do.
The next one was populated by middle aged women wearing pant suits and bitter pursed lips. Yikes.
Next was the empty salon with one stylist who just happened to be too engrossed in her intense telephonic argument to even notice my existence. Goody.
The next one was closed.
Next was apparently the only good salon in the area because they couldn’t get me in for another week. Nevermind.
Fuck it. Fiesta. Siesta. Whatever.
The cut didn’t suck. The stylist was friendly and did a great job pushing the products.