Barber Bob

You know how sometimes you just know it’s time for a haircut? Well, that happened to me yesterday. It became an excuse to go to town. I dropped Deb at the library, and I was off to the barber with the red and white swirled pole on the little main street. I’d been there before. He trimmed me up fine. Not too expensive…….but………....closed.

Damn!

What kind of barber closes on Fridays? There is another barber with the red and white pole in town, but it’s called Barber Bob’s and something about that just seemed like a door to the unknown. I had passed a hair “Salon” which is usually a woman barber who cuts men and woman’s hair and charges way more. I drove over and the lady was really nice and yes they cut men’s hair and they charge $22 but they were totally booked.

I headed to Barber Bob’s.

Just as I was about to enter, I was cut off by a guy in an electric old guy cart, who managed to get in the door before me and was thus next in line. I sat and opened an old spring edition of Western Gardener and eavesdropped. Bob and Old Guy were friends and they chatted about how Old Guy had just turned 90 and some other barber moving to town and how Old Guy didn’t have much hair anymore, but Bob just laughed and said he had enough haha. Clip, clip, clip..snip-snip. I wasn’t watching, just pretending to read, enjoying the banter. Then it was my turn. Old Guy smiled at me, and headed out. “He sure didn’t have much hair”, I thought, and climbed aboard Bob’s chair.”      

        I usually like my hair a bit long” I said, “but it’s getting a bit wild. I need a clean up.”

“Oh. I getcha” said Bob, “You don’t want me to scalp ya”

“Uh…yeah that would be good” sez I. Bob’s comb and scissors began jumping and bouncing off the side of my head. Bob had the shakes. Big time. If I had watched how he scalped Old Guy I could have bolted for the door. As it was, calmly looking at the magazine made me unaware of what I was in for until it was too late.

       After the first large clump hit the floor, there was no turning back. I did my best to not look in the mirror and decided, Hell, it’s only hair. Thumpity-thump went Bob’s comb and scissors against my head as he struggled for control, chopping and lopping. Bob is a really nice guy and I’m sure his  regulars are long standing friends who have always had ol’ Bob as their barber. There is no way he began his career with such a shaky hand. I made small talk and thought about how his condition was progressive and ongoing and really, what else could he do? I avoiding feeling sorry for him and instead, hated him for disfiguring me. Bob, apparently delighted by our small talk and the fact that I remaining seated, would take a scissor break by grabbing a brush, running it under the cold water and slicking my hair back to keep it from escaping so he could really get at it.

       I managed a peek at myself in the rearview mirror on my way to pick up Deb. “Holy shit”, I thought. She was quietly sitting and reading some magazine when I managed to stand before her undetected. She looked up and without a gram of pity, lit up like a light bulb and started laughing. I was laughing too. It’s been well over 24 hours and she is now just grinning whenever she looks at me. The laughter has died down, but I get a start whenever I encounter my reflection. I look like I just escaped from somewhere.