Indianapolis and the Case of Mistaken Identity

When someone shares with me about a convention or conference they are attending, my eyes start to glaze over. This reaction is no doubt related to the fact that I have attended so many conventions and conferences during my lifetime that I’m all “conferenced-out.”

Places I visited on my path to joining the ranks of non-attendees include the great cities of Miami, Austin, San Antonio, Albuquerque, San Diego, Kansas City, Chicago, New York City, Atlanta, Baltimore, New Orleans, Tucson, Phoenix, Des Moines, and Indianapolis. Not necessarily in that order, and some more than once. All of the places were great, all of the conventions, well, not so much.

Conference and convention planners understand the need to promote not only the conference agenda, but also the location. Aware attendees understand that what these planners are really promoting is attendance. In order to bolster attendance, some planners schedule motivational speakers and entertainers, book local tours, and broker deals with tourist attractions in the area. Other planners just leave free time in the schedule for people to explore the sights and, in my case, find great shopping.

At the Indiana Convention Center in Indianapolis, a large shopping center can be accessed without so much as leaving the comfort of the convention complex. Just by following enclosed walkways from the main convention area, one will arrive at the site of a large number of stores. Anyone who knows me knows where I spent my spare time while I was there.

It was during one of my excursions to this masterfully crafted money pit that I discovered a new beauty secret, eyebrow threading. A sign outside of the threading shop indicated that this process originated in India and that it would be quick and painless.

I watched for a few minutes as a young employee of the little shop skillfully twisted and rolled a length of thread along the surface of her client’s skin. When she finished, the client had perfectly shaped eyebrows.

Always up for something new, I decided to utilize this method and rid my brows of any unwanted little hairs. This was my first, and only, threading, but it was also the first time I remember feeling I was getting old. Much younger clients emerged from the shop with smiles and beautifully shaped brows. No smile or great look for me! The young lady assigned as my professional threader attempted to remove the little skin folds below my brows. Hence, I returned to my hotel room with tiny red nicks where my skin had been mistakenly identified as hair. These nicks were accompanied by noticeable and embarrassing swelling, making it appear that I had developed some strange malady. To say I was annoyed would be an understatement.

So, if you ever run across one of those threading places and are tempted, you might want to take a look in a mirror before committing. All such places need a warning sign that reads: “Successful Only for the Young,” or maybe “Our Employees May Have Poor Eyesight.”