I went back to the hotel and nap for a bit. I tried to nap but the noise in the street consisted of every noise imaginable. Really, cars, horns, horses, kids, circular saw, banging on propane tanks, birds....
Anyway, I get up, I decide to get something to eat. I throw on my pants and catch myself in the mirror, and I look like peppermint pattie.
My hair grows fast and I'm lazy. This is a bad combo. It's been a while since I've been to the barber and it was definitly time to go.
I used to go to a lady in Korea all the time. We devoloped an understanding of what was acceptable and what was not. I was close to getting my hair cut in a park in china last year but I chickened out.
This situation needed a resolution. So I went down the street and there was a shop.
The guys were sitting around watching soccer and a kid was getting his haircut. I remember that look, the "Fuck I hate getting my haircut!" look.
Anyway, the kid was getting his cut from a tall thin guy watching the game and moving the scissors with every kick. He gets done with the kid and motions to me. I get up but he motions to the other chair.
For me he was going to the bullpen. This guy that looks like the guard from "Midnight Express" comes in and without a word puts the tissue on my neck and BOOM we're off. He's going, cutting, smoothing. Meticulous. This guy is a surgeon. In about 15 minutes he's done. Not bad.
He reaches for the counter and mmmmmmm....not what I wanted....hair gel....With the big paws, SLOSH...it goes in. I haven't used this stuff since I was in first grade and I still have the picture to show why.
He combs the hair back and I'm done.
Look in the mirror. Hey, I look like Hitler...with glasses.
I slip his a ten spot. He seems ok with it. Not happy but ok.
As I leave I see he has two straight razors soaking in a mug that says "Mom, you've always been there "
I guess if he wasn't happy. I'd know.
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