Picture it: Nashvegas. TPAC. (That would be the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. Think plays, operas, and symphonic concerts. You with me?) Late 1980s. Big hair---the kind with bangs that stand up to greet you---was in. It was really in. I'm in the fifth, sixth, seventh, or eighth grade at the time. I don't know for sure which one. It's one of those field trip days. And kids are buzzin' on being out of the classroom.
During intermission, eyeglasses-wearin' and not-that-cool me accompanies a gal pal to the rest room. (Gals are biologically required to take a companion to the ladies room.) We do our bid-ness and wait for an open spot to wash hands.
And I hear it. You can hear it, and picture it too. Frizz-curled Miss Thang standing at the sink, bending towards the mirror, brandishing a brush and a huge can of AquaNet. She says, and I kid you not, with great dismay and frustration in her voice, after spraying what must have been three quarters of the can onto the nest o' bangs: "KREE-stuhl, I cain't git mah har high 'nuff!!!"
My friend and I high-tailed it out of there, stifling our guffahs until we were at a safe distance.
Miss Thang and her friend "KREE-stuhl" were from a different part of Metro, I guarantee it.
True story. Believe it, or not.