Burnin’ Down Da House

Drama follows me around. You guys know this or you would not be reading my blog. A normal visit to the hairdresser yesterday turns into a Cirque de Westcott adventure…

So there I am sitting under the dryer reading an exceptionally boring novel on my ipad and questioning why I am still paying this book any attention. I’m OCD like that. No matter how awful a book is I have to finish it.

My hairdresser – let’s call her Flo – rents a treatment room in her salon to a nail technician. The nail tech’s room is located next to the wash and dry room (ladies you know what I’m talking about). I’m sitting there minding my own when my idle musings were interrupted by an explosion and loud screams; next thing I see two women running out of the nail tech’s room.

My first thought? We were being robbed. I expected the women to be followed by three Glock-toting guntas wetting down the place. Cell phone at the ready, I was poised to call the popo. Then I smelt smoke and got up to see what was going on. A trolley filled with nail care products was doing a very good impression of a burning bush while smaller fires glowed merrily around the room. Quick thinking Flo switched off the electricity mains and filled a bucket with water. There was no one else at the salon apart from the nail tech and her client who were running around screaming like headless chooks. Note to self – fire and hysterical women do not mix.

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first container I could find – a plastic box of curlers. Tossed the curlers on the counter, filled the container with water and ran back to the Red Room of Nails to douse the burning bush. Seeing Flo and I in action seemed to snap Headless Chook and Ms Thang (hereafter known as HC and MT) out of their hysteria. They were soon flinging water in the room but to no avail. The small fires were quickly outed but burning bush got bigger and bigger and the room rapidly filled with smoke.

HC opened the windows -”Yes! Let’s give the fire more oxygen!” By this time thick black smoke was burning our eyes and lungs and it dawned on me that the Situation Was Serious. I spied a rack of towels and long forgotten fire safety training came flooding back. (Thank you, Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme!) I grabbed a few towels – “Not the white ones!” screamed HC; flung them at the others and shouted “Wet it!”

I threw the towels on the burning bush and FINALLY the fire was under control. Flo and I dragged the bush outside and put it out for good. While HC and MT collapsed in a hysterical heap, Flo and I turned our attention to clean up. The salon was flooded.

I noticed HC was limping and realised she had been burnt. Luckily not badly, and some antiseptic cream from my bag soon took care of that. Trust me folks – in the event of a nuclear disaster or act of God, you want to be standing next to me. My handbag is a moving survival kit. Food, water, medication, makeup – the works.

It turns out HC was trying to pour acetone from a bottle, it splashed on a tea light and boom! I think she may consider investing in a fire extinguisher…

Flo turned to me and said “Is your hair dry? Let’s get on with styling it”. By this time my freshly washed hair was reeking of smoke and my clothes were covered in soot – including my white T-shirt captioned “Keep Calm and Carry on”. Ironic, eh? We left HC and MT on clean-up duty and retreated to the relatively smoke free styling area. There was a lot of smoke and water damage but the room appeared structurally sound. Priorities – I had to finish my hair.

I left the salon thinking this brings a whole new meaning to a hot hairstyle. Such excitement I could do without. But it reinforced how quickly a minor incident can turn disastrous. The moral of the story? Throw away my unused mani pedi gift certificate. Life’s too short.