A lesson learned.

As you all know, I have been shaving my head on a weekly basis for the last three or four years. Unfortunately, a healthy, full head of hair is something you simply cannot find on the men who share my genetic upbringing. So, as soon as I noticed the follicles in the north country falling by the way side, I decided to adopt the new look.

To be honest, I really don't mind it. It's a nice clean look. It's easy to maintain and I save a bundle on hair care products. Every Sunday morning, with my Oster clippers in hand, I buzz off the week's growth. That's about it. That's all it takes.

So, aside from having the full head of flowing locks that I'm sure Hailey wishes I had, the buzz look hasn't really been an issue for me.

Until today.

Normally on business trips of extended length I pack my clippers so I can keep up with my weekly sheering. I chose to leave them home this time because I needed all the carry-on bag space for my clothes. (Yes, I hate checking bags so much that I decided to live for three weeks off of one carry-on bag.) So it was either the clippers or a few more clean pairs of undies. Besides, I could just find a barber or something, right?

So today that's what I did. I googled "Barber Shop in Soho, NY" and was quickly presented with a handful of selections all within a hefty walk. Naturally, I chose the closest one which was about 20 blocks. Village Cuts. Off I went. This will be quick and simple. Just pop in, get a quick buzz and be on my way.

As I neared my destination, I began to notice a curious similarity between the local shops. Let's just say they were very "liberal" in their appearance and product offerings. I arrived at Village Cuts and walked in. Perfect, a barber chair was available. A rather effeminate man sitting behind the counter told me to take a seat and that my stylist would be right with me soon. He draped a cape around my neck and then frolicked off into the back room. "Sandy, you have a customer." As I looked around I quickly realized something. I was in a gay barber shop. Posters of bare-chested men covered the walls. A giant rainbow decal adorned the front window. How did I not see this? It was everywhere. Even on the small screen television mounted on the wall and the magazine rack.

Towering well over six feet tall, with a glistening bald head and a giant loop earring wearing tight jeans and a black tank top, my stylist, "Sandy" entered the room.

SANDY: What can I do for you?

ME: Just a quick buzz. No attachment. Just really quick.

SANDY: Okay.

ME: Like super fast. Just a quick buzz. And I'll be on my way. Just quick.

Now, again, remember I can shave my own head in about 10 minutes. It's really not that complex or time consuming. Well, somehow he managed to stretch it out for 45 of some of the most uncomfortable minutes I can remember. With one of his giant hands palming my entire head and the other directing the clippers, he went to work.

I clicked my heels three times. Nothing happened.

After thirty minutes, the hair cut was finally over. I made it. Honestly, it wasn't even that big of a deal.

Wait, what is that? What is he doing? Where did that bottle of oil come from and why is he pouring it into his massive hands? Wait. This is fine, I just needed the hair cut. It looks great. I should just be on my way. I gotta get back to...oh great, okay. Just go ahead and, right, okay. Just great. Okay, I guess that's going on my head. And, awesome, I guess I'm getting a head massage.

For an entire fifteen minutes.



Rest assured, next time I'll pack the clippers.