I’m in a Walgreens in San Juan.
I know what you’re thinking, stop with the relatable content already!
I’m in a Walgreens in San Juan in the longest queue of my entire life.
Honestly, I’d guess there are about 67 people in front of me and maybe 25 behind. It’s absolutely roasting and there’s no end in sight for the poor person on checkout duty.
The rest of us are snaking through the aisles at a glacial pace and I can’t speak for them, but I’ve got sweat trickling down my spine, pooling at my waistband.
I wouldn’t normally commit to the queue in instances like these, but I forgot to bring tweezers on a month long work trip and I have never been more acutely aware of the inadmissible hairs sprouting from my body;
- 3 below the arch of my left eyebrow
- 2 from the mole just above my jawline
- 1 especially seductive little number just to the right of my top lip
- 7 or 8 venturing into the gap between my eyebrows, conspiring (I would imagine) to form some sort of union. Unite the duo to create a mono; stronger together. Well, it’s not ‘appening babes.
I am so self-centred these days, I genuinely think my rogue hairs are the reason people aren’t laughing at some of the jokes we’ve been hired to tell on the cruise ship.
Ah yes, that’s the other reason I can’t leave. Our sketch comedy group (along with 2000 other people) is about to be at sea for eight consecutive days.
The other performers on board look as if they have been sculpted from marble, and I, by comparison, possess the figure of an (increasingly hairy) vampiric comedian.
The least I can do, predominantly for my own self worth, is tighten the ol’ personal grooming bootstraps. But, with eight consecutive days at sea ahead of me I can’t pluck (scuse me) a pair of tweezers from thin air. And the magician won’t be on board until next week.
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