Chinese torture

Today was a whirlwind. After getting a trailer hitch put on my car in big city Florence, SC, I decided to partake in a ritual I have yet to understand or find delight in, eyebrow waxing. I mean what else does one do after getting a trailer hitch put on one's car? The next logical stop is the Chinese owned nail salon for a good torture session (and they are ALL Chinese owned by the way). So I find one in one of those strip malls (this is because those strip malls ALWAYS have nail salons right next to their cell phone building, which is right next to their credit union, which is right next to, if you're lucky, their dollar tree store). I pull up and through the glass, staring out with her arms crossed is this middle aged Chinese woman in a pink suit with tightly fixed hair. I step out of my car and she is still staring at me, so I look over my shoulder and unfortunately for me there was nobody else their to receive this ladies glare, it was all for me. I pumped myself up, "You can do this A.J. You're a strong 22 year old." I opened the door, all the while feeling those two little slanted lasers burning holes in my neck. As I took my first step inside I heard a deep, Asian, male voice from my left say, "Can we help you." I looked over and a young Chinese man with a sleeveless shirt and a tattooed arm that was slung up on the side of the couch was staring at me waiting for me to answer. It had happened. I had been teleported into a Jackie Chan mobster movie and I was about to die (or so I thought). I waited for them to take me to the "back room" to speak to the "big boss" you know because that is what happens in every Jackie Chan or any other type of mobster movie. I, not being very confident that this man could answer my inquiry or that I wanted him to, asked how much it cost to get your eyebrows done (mobster grandma is still burning me with her lasers). He gave me "the stare down" then spoke wildly in a language not English and a younger girl appeared out of nowhere and dragged me to this chair, the chair we will from now own refer to as the chair of death, and began her work. She looked at me, opened a drawer and then casually slapped some flaming hot, sticky liquid on my eyes with a popsicle stick, then slapped a piece of paper under each eye and ripped it off like you would rip off the top of an envelope containing a million dollar check, no mercy. I had tears rolling down my face and a tight grip to the underside of that chair. I wondered a few things at this point, the first being if they had any novacane and the second, what the crap was I thinking. I paid the lady and walked to my car as quickly as I could, with my eyelids burning all the way. As I got in Mobster mom was still looking at me, arms folded. It was a bizarre experience and I believe a suttle from of Chinese torture.