There are some things or people you don't give up just because you move from a neighborhood. One of those is my hairdresser. She does a wonderful job on both the cut and the color.
I always feel like I'm going to confession when I say it's been six weeks or two months since my last cut. Today it was two months so I drove up to Queens. While I was sitting there getting my touch up, the smoke alarm went off. While one of the hairdressers tried to stop the constant ringing of the alarm, the rest of us just kept doing what we were doing. I was concerned that the alarm might be wired into the fire station and I might have to evacuate the place with my hair half done. Fortunately, that didn't happen, and there was no fire.
The alarm finally stopped, but I was remined that that was typical New York. One time I was in a movie theater with a friend when we saw firemen coming down the aisle. No one wanted to leave until the movie was over, only one person left her seat and that was because the sprinkler went off and she got wet. My friend even suggested that we leave by the door that was nearest the firemen because she likes men in uniform.
We don't get upset by these alarms. We're so used to them from cars, fire engines, police cars, ambulances, we don't even notice, except to get annoyed by the noise. I'm sure, if there had been smoke or flames, we would have left (I think).