My hair was looking frightful so I decided to pay a visit to a hair salon.
I found one that looked presentable and entered.
"Yeah....I need my hair done."
"No problem.", said the hairdresser and quoted an outrageous price even by London standards.
I was already in the salon and there was no going back so I agreed. I'm easily swayed like that.
The hairdresser begun faffing with my barnet and making small talk: "Where are you from?"
"Ah, Korea...very nice."; I was baffled, but he continued completely unfazed: "You don't have the eyes, eh...?"
'No, I don't have "the eyes" because I'm not from Korea'; I thought to myself, but I didn't want to spoil his excitement about possibly his first "Korean" customer so I kept quiet. Besides, he did my hair justice and I needed good hair for tomorrow's visit to Jerusalem. I couldn't very well go to an ancient city overlooked by Gods of all Abrahamic religions with shitty hair. That's just not done.