My hair feels long again and it's stressing me out.

I used to get my hair cut by an adorable gay man in the East Village, who looked as if he took a break from gallivanting with the Lollipop Guild to style hair. Unfortunately, his services were a little steep and I decided to look for a cheaper option.

While perusing Yelp.com one day, I discovered what seemed to be the super cheap haircut mecca. The Aveda school: $20 haircuts by students. The catch is that they take longer than normal haircuts and you have to stand for part of it. I thought that sounded just fine; after all, what could really go wrong other than a terrible cut?

I arrived on the day of my appointment and was escorted to the back of the salon, where chairs were crammed together rather tightly. I noticed it was a little warm. And there were a lot of strong smells. I had a consult with my assigned student, who then consulted his teacher, and then had my hair washed. Back in the chair, after having the sides of my hair cut, I was asked to stand up so he could cut the back. I did as instructed and soon started feeling a little weird. I was suddenly really warm and a bit weak. Luckily I was soon told to sit, which I thought would make me feel normal, but I quickly realized things were getting worse, and fast.

I asked for some water. My student disappeared as I sat there all sweaty and clammy trying to get a hold of myself. (I was looked really good at this point, I'm sure.) I ripped off the smock that suddenly seemed to be choking me and told the student I wasn't feeling well. Even though I felt terrible, I was so mortified as another person came to see what was going on.

This is when I made a scene. Slowly my eyesight blurred and it sounded like I was underwater at the end of a tunnel. I was led by the elbow by someone out front where I was told there would be more air. I actually considered that I might be dying. I mean, doesn't it make sense that you would slowly lose your senses and then you would eventually just fade away into the light? Or dark? Whatever. This crossed my mind, as well as a terrible sense of guilt at being the ruin of my budding stylists' career (obviously he wouldn't be able to carry on his training after a client died in his chair, right?).

But alas, I lived. Slowly my senses returned, and after about a gallon of water and being seated in a chair in the front of the salon, I emerged with my haircut. Three hours after my scheduled appointment, and for just $25 (I had to leave the poor guy $5 for the trauma).

The question is: do I go back? Would you?

winner: my wallet?
loser: my poor, innocent Aveda student