This Guy Needs The Hair Of The Dog

(I am with my dad on a trip to Las Vegas for the first time. We’re standing outside looking up at one of the hotels when a clearly drunk young man wanders over and, no joke, starts playing with my hair.)

Man: “Woah… girl, you hair is like wheat!”

(My dad and I are too deep in shock to really process this.)

Man: “It’s just like wheat… So soft and pretty! Like wheat!”

Me: “Uh… you said that…”

Man: “Your hair is like wheat! And—” *he sniffs my hair* “—aww… it doesn’t smell like wheat at all… It smells like strawberries…”

Me: “…Uh huh…” *pointed look at my dad snickering off to the side* “Uh… you can jump in anytime, Dad.”

Man: *finally releases my hair* “Good… good daughter… That’s a good daughter who listens to her daddy… Good daughter…”

(We watch as he wanders off muttering how I’m a good daughter. I glare at my dad.)

Me: “Thanks a heap for the help, Dad.”

Dad: “Well, there’s mean drunks, and there’s funny drunks. We just met one of the weird drunks. Hey, at least he liked your hair.”