Getting a haircut should not be a traumatic event.
Unless something special is about to happen there is no reason to get my hair cut. I do not go to work, I do not go out, I do not care what it looks like. If not for Wanda I would probably cut it myself and wear a hat. Having said that, occasionally something special comes up. When it does Wanda gently reminds me beforehand.
We are getting ready to go up to Nevada City. At least three weeks ago I started getting little hints about my hair. "Your hair looks terrible" or "you look so much younger when your hair is cut" or just plain "GET YOUR HAIRCUT."
Since we are leaving tomorrow I needed to get the hair cut today. I have had some very bad luck over the years. I was going to a "regular" old barbershop for a while. The fellow cutting my hair did a decent job and the price was reasonable. I went about a year ago and the barber was out ill. I decided to wait for the fellow filling in for him.
The barber put the sheet on me and went to work. He felt my head and made a few snips, he felt my head and made a few more snips, then he felt my head again, twice, and made a couple more snips. For thirty minutes I sat, he felt my head and made snips. I never had experienced a hair cut like that, all the feeling and snipping. When he finished I put my glasses on and looked at my hair. All the feeling was now obvious, he was feeling for the braille. This was my last venture to that "regular" barbershop.
Eventually the hair grew back and I was ready to try it again. This time I went to a local "beauty/barber" shop. I now know it's probably best to avoid places that cut hair and do pedicures. My hair looked like the barber was confused, were they cutting hair or toe nails? I did not go back.
My next try was a place that only used an electric clipper. I was told I was a twenty two and I should ask for that my next time in. I was probably a forty four when I next needed a haircut but I didn't go there.
Last October we went on a ten day cruise. Wanda started asking me about a haircut in August. I eventually went to a local shop, Wayne's. This is a two chair shop with a large television set, a larger supply of DVD's, and Wi Fi. The days of reading comic books or Playboy while in the chair or waiting seem to be over. Wayne did a great job on my hair and has senior rates (sixty two and over).
I think I have been there between then and now but not sure. Whenever the last cut was, I had to go somewhere today. I called Wayne who opened at 8:30, got his recorder and planned on going around nine.
I arrived at the shop about 9:15 and it was closed. The shutters were drawn, the shades pulled, no note, no return when sign, nothing. Now I had a decision to make.
My first thought was, just go home, the heck with the haircut. My clothes would be relatively clean, I wouldn't smell and our friends wouldn't care if I was shaggy haired. My next thought was, if I go home Wanda will "suggest" I go up to her pedicure place since they cut men's hair on Tuesday. I was not going to make that mistake again. There was another shop just down the street, I went there.
Can a barber with seventeen tattoos, six visible piercings, wearing a sideways baseball cap cut an old white guys hair? I was going to find out. I said hello and took a seat. One barber, one guy in the chair, one guy waiting, and me. The TV in the shop was on ESPN. The barber would cut and look, cut and look, cut and look. At this rate I figured I would be there half the morning.
Although slow, the barber was doing a very good job. He used a scissors, a clipper, and a razor. I first thought of leaving when he put goop on the guys hair and styled it into a long Mohawk. I thought about it again when the last guy to come in the shop (about ten minutes before) got in his chair. Maybe he had an appointment but no one said anything. I wasn't comfortable enough to ask, or wait so I left. It was probably a wise decision.
I decided to give Wayne another try and he was there, morning car trouble. We talked about fishing in Alaska, the high cost of homes, new car tires, and his daughter. He has a sixteen year old who is taking college classes. She wants to be a doctor and he would someday like to retire. He figures if he can finance her school she can pay for a fishing trip once a year. It's not asking much.
Me? I would like to keep enough hair so I need a cut a few times a year. I don't think it's asking too much. Besides, I would be contributing to her education and his fishing trips.
No comments:
Post a Comment