I was at the hairdresser's, right, which is in the middle of one of those disgustingly large shopping malls. I'd just sat down in front of the mirror and was leafing through an old copy of Australian Hair, they hadn't put the black cape around me or anything, when an alarm starts going off and we're instructed to evacuate the building. Hmph. The hairdressers promptly close their front door and usher all us customers out through the back into the carpark. The comical part was how they kept cutting hair all the while, and finished off a couple of cuts while we were standing around waiting in the sun. The less funny part was how everyone - the hairdressers naturally, all the other customers and Christmas shoppers and staff of other shops, everyone except me - all lit up a cigarette at exactly the same time. I'm sure even the children were smoking while we were all standing there squinting and sweating. It was disgusting.
I really wanted my hair cut, and I really didn't want to hike back to my car which was of course parked on the other side of the mall. But how long could I put up with that second hand smoke? No-one was offering to do my hair out there, but I waited and waited until finally the chief hairdresser told all the other hairdressers that they could go home. As we were standing in their staff carpark, they all just hopped into their tiny cars and sped off out of there. Ugh. I was left to begin my circumnavigation of the enormous building, and I got crankier and crankier with each hot step. I could feel my skin burning in the sun. I tried to take a short-cut through the covered part of the carpark but I was told by an official that that was forbidden. It was a bomb threat, and it had to be taken seriously.
I'm home now, but I'm still cranky. If I ever find out who phoned in that bomb threat, well, I'm going to ...well, I don't know. But I'll think of something.