What lies beneath the plait

On Friday, I spent the first 5 hours of work with a large wad of gum in my hair. I discovered said wad at approximately 4 am, but with no internet access, I was unable to determine an appropriate course of action. I knew that something could get it out, but as my most reliable guess was lighter fluid, I decided to stay the course and leave the gum in until I received confirmation of the best method of removal.

I had an important meeting to attend, so I managed to artfully conceal the gum and adjoining tangled hairball in a well-constructed braid and went on with my day. Not without a fair amount of bitching, mind you. Finally, Poland said to me, "Let me just cut it out for you." I looked at him aghast. A Pole offering to cut my hair?

"Yeah, and off to the "showers" next I bet," I managed to spit out. My recent weekend trip to see the list of relatives that were exterminated in Auschwitz apparently had an effect. It was his turn to look horrified.

"What is wrong with you Americans?"

This is a question I receive a lot around here. Luckily Poland's [redacted] allows me to ignore such slurs, but the abuse I take on a daily basis about my nationality never ceases to amuse. I'm still trying to push the me-as-exotic thing, but so far the response has been only lukewarm. Tonight I was told "Exotic--only if talking about your dancing career."

As it turns out, any type of oil or peanut butter will get gum out of hair. 30 minutes at home for lunch and a bottle of canola oil on my head and the gum was gone and I was ready for another raucous Friday night in Dublin.