Monday, January 23

- GETTING MY HAIRCUT

I know what you're thinking from the title of this. You're thinking "Wow this is going to be one gosh darn exciting post!"

Well right you are. And you're also a moron for using phrases like, "gosh darn" in your thoughts. Idiot.

I got my haircut Friday for the first time in over a month. I know from this picture it doesn't look too long but trust me it was.

barbershop portrait2

My barbershop is a great little old school establishment on Court Street. Inside you find a little old Italian man speaking broken English and his partner, a Russian woman who also speaks broken English.

On Friday I arrived a little before 6PM and was almost turned away. Russian woman just shook her head and said "no" when she saw me opening the door. My old Italian friend though, told me to take a seat and he would take care of me even though they were closing up. Then the two of them began arguing as they usually do. I think they argue in English because neither speak the others tongue of origin, but I have no idea how they understand each other because I can't really make out more than every 3rd word.

When it was my turn in the chair, he started yelling about his partner who had already gone home at that point. I sat listening and nodded my head (when the scissors weren't too close of course). I always sit there and listen to him talk a few words but mostly he just works and I thank him afterwards. Haircut is $10 and I give a $2 tip.

When he finished cutting he walked over to get the mirror to show me the back and asked me if the length was ok, as he usually does. I ran my fingers through my luxurious chesnut hair with auburn highlights, but before I even said anything he started yelling at me.

"Why your fingers have to touch to feel?" or something to that effect he said. He was mad that I even had to check the length. He yelled something about cutting hair for thirty plus years and knows better than me. He said everyone do that, and mimicked me touching my hair.

I gotta admit I was kinda scared.

He then said, "You go home check if no then never come back, good?" I took that to mean if I checked my hair when I got home and was not satisfied I wouldn't ever have to come back. I told him my hair was fine and I just like to run my fingers through afterwards, just to feel. Then he pointed to the ground and said "Look at all that hair I cut!"

I said yeah man that's a lotta hair! good job.

He never even let me see the back of my head. He had put the mirror back without showing me it which was fine, I just wanted to get out of there. I paid and thanked him. He smiled at me and told me to have a good weekend.

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