The Neck Sucking Thing

I have been agonizing over a decision for the past month or so, and today I took the plunge. I, like so many others have to get my hair cut from time to time. I try to stretch that time out because I begrudge the fact that my body continues to grow hair in spite of my express orders not to. I know some people don’t mind getting their hair cut and I suspect that others even like it. Be that as it may, for the last couple of weeks I have known that my hair needed cutting.

The only time that it looked half ways decent was shortly after I got out of the shower and the mirror was fogged up. That foggy mirror is a blessing I can tell you. The hair was getting just too long! Not long enough for me to look cool, although when guys my age have really long hair it is really a cry for help, and a pathetic one at that. Oh, I know there are some people that look really good with long hair, my buddy Marsden is one, but I contend that he is the exception rather than the rule. I wouldn’t mind really long hair, but it is that in between stage that is really irritating. I had long hair for a number of years, but had to cut it in order to get a job way back in the deep recesses of time.

I mentioned my barber dilemma a while back I think. He was leaving the shop I have been going to for many years which is very close to home, and moving about a ten minute drive away. The reason that he changed locations had more to do with being bigoted than improving his ability to earn. He stopped me in the mall months ago and in a hurried whisper he told me of the move and asked if I would continue to support him. I didn’t really know what to say, he had hold of my arm and was about two feet into my personal space which made me pretty uncomfortable, so of course I said “Sure, why not?” My ploy worked, he let go of my arm and wandered off muttering to himself in search of other heads that he had known to try and convert them.

I had no intention of driving half way across the city to get my hair cut. I don’t even really like the guy and in fact I wrote a blog about him called “Human Sphincter”. He’s alright enough to cut my hair, but ten minutes uses up all of the possible weather, political and news conversations and for the last couple of minutes it is a very awkward silence until he holds the mirror up and I call him the Rembrandt of hair. No, to tell the truth I was kind of happy that he was leaving and maybe I might find someone that I could talk to for another five minutes.

 

I have put off the haircut because I just couldn’t decide if his happiness or mine was more important. Today I decided that I would go to the old barbershop and just get my hair cut no matter that the old place is a hangout for Lebanese. It is kind of like a Lebanese Floyd’s barber shop. Unfortunately, the car took me to the new shop where Dennis works. I got out and there he was, standing in the doorway like he was waiting for me to come. I suppose that it is possible that he was waiting for me, but I don’t want to think about that because it is way too creepy.

 

I sat in the chair and looked around. It was an old style shop with pictures of well cut hair and paintings of some crazy green land that had no real place in society. There were scissors, brushes, combs, bottles of blue liquid and the inevitable hair clippings on the floor. I asked how his summer was and he said “OK”. “How do you like the new place?”

“OK”

“Weather has been great, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it has been OK”

“What about the hockey situation?” I said.

“Whatever they do is OK by me.”

We had ten minutes more of this kind of painful conversation and he finally undid the tissue collar to do a final trimming. He brought out the hair dryer and blew the gray hairs off of my lap, took the brush and applied it to my shoulders for any stray hairs that might still be around. Then, there was a sucking on my neck. I am going to assume that it is a new tool in the barber’s arsenal, because I don’t even want to think that Dennis was sucking my neck.

I got up and asked how much. He said “Fifty.” I said “FIFTY!!!!” to which he replied “No, fifteen.” I laughed, paid him and walked out into the afternoon sunshine feeling like a new man. I was happy too, because I didn’t really care who cut my hair, but by coming here I made Dennis very happy I think.

I am still weirded out by the neck sucking thing.