Once in a while someone encounters a bizarre incident in the neighborhood and promptly sends us a nice play-by-play of the shit that went down. FIPS reader MacKenzie did just that and wrote us a HILARIOUS account that I'd like to (lamely) dub, "Meet The Parents IV: Angry Motherfockers Who Throw Chairs." Enjoy.
Wanted to share the most violent nail salon encounter that you're likely to hear about all day. Yesterday I was at H&L Nail Spa on 5th Avenue near Carroll prepping my feet for strappy sandals. I'm sitting under the dryer, and next to me is a young teenage girl in gym shorts waiting for her French pedicure to dry. The manicurist brings her the bill, which is $24, and the girl says, "I only have a twenty." He breaks it down for her--$17 for the pedi, $5 for French, a dollar for quick dry topcoat, and a buck for tax -- and again she repeats, "I only have $20." He doesn't really know what to say but leaves her with the bill. It's worth noting that at no point was he confrontational; he was actually pretty embarrassed. The girl whips out her Sidekick, calls her folks, and tells them that she needs more money.
Fifteen minutes later, this huge guy in an orange polo with a thick New York accent barges into the salon and bellows, "WHO OWNS THIS PLACE??" I'll spare you the caps lock for the rest of his dialogue, but suffice to say he was literally screaming the whole time. The salon is full, and no one knows what to say.
"Who owns this place and where is my daughter?" His daughter happens to be sitting right next to him and calls out to him, clearly mortified. The guy goes, "Who told her to get this pedicure? Who made her get it?" and the daughter tries to explain that no one made her, she's just a pre-teen who wants a French pedi, jeez. Then the mom barrels in, also large, also angry. "Who told her she couldn't leave? That's imprisonment!" Hm, also paying for goods/services rendered is kind of the cornerstone of a capitalist society, but I digress.
So now the righteous moms of Park Slope are pissed; who are these, these yellers? We're just trying to read our New Yorkers and get our cuticles trimmed, right? So one of the clients speaks up: "Who are YOU to come in here and talk to someone like that?" The parents now direct their fury at her, and another woman jumps in, asking them to keep their voices down around her five-year-old daughter, who is there for a birthday mani-pedi and most certainly has never been exposed to raised voices in her entire young life. At this point racial epithets are being hurled as the father rages against "fucking Koreans." Incidentally, the salon is Chinese-owned and operated, but I'm guessing cultural sensitivity is not high on this guy's priority list. Shit really hits the fan when one of the customers lets drop the word "trash." Here we go. "Trash? TRASH?? MY WIFE WILL TAKE YOU." (Caps totally necessary at this point.)
The husband then *picks up a chair* and throws it. Picks it up and throws it again. I've called the cops by this point, but by the time I explain what's going on the family has already left --without paying--leaving overturned chairs and a room of stunned salon patrons in their wake. The lovely proprietress kept on apologizing to all of us, and we were all like, "No, lady, WE'RE sorry there are racist assholes with anger management issues terrorizing your salon." So, I don't know, if your readership wants to show their support for victims of aggro haters, they should head over to H&L for their next mani-pedi. Solidarity, Park Slope.