The Wig Separation
Soooo, this tale involves a wig, an air hostess and a puke bag. I have already told the humans in my life (and Artaxerxes…my pet apple (yes I have a pet apple! who is dying slowly by the way… and honestly if you do not know about him then I do not even know who you are to me) who would be otherwise embarrassed for me. Then again, they know this one is not normal so that is very much fine. Thank you very much. God bless.
Okay, to the main story….So the day my mom and I were to travel to the DXB, we had an early morning start even though our flight was scheduled for later that night (like by 6:30pm), I do not know if it’s because we were excited or because we had a lot of stuff to do before we left- one of the things I had to do was get a new charger….which I did.. and which got bad that day which I only figured out when my battery was 5 percent down. I had proudly whipped out my new charger at the airport when we had checked in and were settled down, only to find out that it was not working. I basically had to roam around the airport like a homeless porcupine to see if I would find some good samaritan with a phone charger that would be willing to lend same to me.
After a long and tiring (about one and a half minutes) search, I ended up making friends with random people including but not limited to two nice Rwandan guys (one of whom I cannot even pronounce nor spell his name) and a friendly South African Lady (in the picture below) so I could use their phone chargers. They turned out to be super cool and smart too. Had amazing conversations with them. And so began my quest to see how I could travel to Kigali in 2019 because those east african accents though…
I digress. Anyway I was super excited and got ready a little too early ready to run all the errands we had to run. So I wore my bomb wig which I found was a little snug. I was feeling myself and about to whip the hair back and fourth but then I was like…erm what about if we landed in Dubai and we were strolling and the crown prince of the DXB, Al Maktoum, bumped into me and suddenly realized I was his soulmate but then the wig fell off while I was having dinner with him or something.
So I was like no way, we’re getting this wig to fit just right. (To be fair, a couple of months back, I wore a wig that was quite snug to a kart race track and then got the tight small helmet on before the ride. I had an absolutely great time on the ride, forced my colleague to take great pictures, but then when I got out of the kart to remove the helmet, then wig kinda…. you know how that story most likely ended.) I was not about to give any explanations to the crown prince.
Saddled with this motivation, I went and did oversabi and over tightened the wig. At that point I was too excited so I did not realize how tight it was. All I could imagine was me whipping the hair back and fourth like Beyoncé while running on the beach in slow motion. As long as it did not fall out.
So I had the wig on the whole day (from like 8am) and then we got on our evening flight at like 7pm or so. We even had to wait at the airport for a while because we got in super early.
The first five hours of the flight were good; feelings of excitement, eating everything in sight (indifferent about the plane food to be fair plus I was hungry so it tasted divine to me) and just enjoying the experience of it all. I fell asleep watching a movie, which I cannot even remember.
By the sixth hour which was around 2am DXB time (or whatever country we were hovering over), I woke up to go to the bathroom. This faint feeling suddenly washed over me and my heart started racing. I broke out into a sweat and made my way slowly to the bathroom. I thought I was getting airsick but could not explain the feeling. Having been done from the bathroom, I staggered a little down the aisle to my seat but then the feeling got worse so I just sat in an empty seat not too far from where we were seated mostly so mother would not have a heart attack and scream at the pilot to stop the plane because her child was feeling sick and I knew I did not look great.
By now, I was sweating profusely and feeling nauseous. I then told one of the air hostesses who was serving drinks “oh I feel faint” then she goes “feel faint? Why?…why?….why?…” And she kept on asking “why” “how?” because even I did not understand why I was feeling how I felt. Anyway she gave me a puke bag and moved away still looking confused. I managed to get back to my seat with my sweaty, not so good looking self. As soon as I turned to my mother and said, “I don’t feel too good, I feel faint”, she went “it’s this your wig! You’ve been wearing it the whole day! Remove it!” (If you know my mom, you would probably have said how she said it). LMAO.
Honestly, at that point, there was nothing left to slay again when I was feeling like I was about to pass out. Before I could say anything she had reached for the wig and yanked at it. I did not even struggle. It’s not like the crown prince would even be on the flight. So we removed the wig (which I laid perfectly on my head so it looked like it was still on sha) and asked for cups of water. A few minutes and cups of water later, I was feeling great and like I would not die. Almost everyone around us was even asleep anyway so no one was bothered by that…and if they were I didn’t care at that point.
Anyway, the moral of the story is you can’t slay when you’re dead.