Dear Chicago

Today I had a very important date at 4:45pm.

So once I got home at 3:30pm, I showered, blow dried my hair, styled it, put on a nice jacket, and rushed out the door.

As I walked rapidly down Michigan Avenue, a relatively well-dressed man stopped me.

"Excuse me, miss. Can I ask you something about your hair?"

Wow, I thought. Who knew my twelve-minute whip-my-hair-into-submission hairstyle could turn heads?

"You could use a new look. I used to be a talent scout, and I think that if you cut your hair into a drastic bob - like Victoria Beckham - you could be really huge as a model."

Cue my blank stare.

"Victoria Beckham. You know who she is right?"

Yeah, do you know who she is? I wanted to ask him. I'm Asian. There's no way I could pull off her hairstyle with this bone structure. This non-existent bone structure.

Turns out he was trying to "give" me a gift certificate for a salon. I could get a $600 pamper-myself day at the spa for just $75!!!!! Hair! Nails! Massages! That's when I realized he wasn't trying to promote a new salon opening by handing out flyers. He actually was trying to sell me something.

No, but thank you.

Are you a student?

Yes, a starving one.

I'll give it to you for $50.

I really don't need it. My hands are in gloves all day. And a nice hairstyle would be lost in anatomy lab. And the library.

$45. You're killing me here.

I really can't. Sorry.

Don't apologize. Just give me $40 and we'll call it a deal.

I really can't. And I'm late...

How much will you buy it for?

I don't have any money on me...

You were wasting my time?!

He stormed off, muttering about impertinent students and how rude Chicagoans were.

I stared. And then I realized I needed to get to the bank before it closed because I desperately needed to get some money so that I could pay my rent. So, shaking my head, I rushed off in the opposite direction.

I got to the bank at 5:03pm. It was closed. Freakin' street promoters wasting my time.