I got another haircut this weekend, and unlike previous times, it was a success! I did pay double what I paid for last time, which meant I paid 8 bucks for a haircut. Despite the gaping hole in my wallet, I do declare that it was worth it.
For one, there was more than one person cutting hair, so I got to hop right into a seat.
Also, compared to previous haircut experiences, this was one went without a hitch. However, there were several strange things that happened.
First, the guy cut my hair for about 35 minutes. In men’s-haircut-years, that’s 57 years. He literally cut each of my hairs to his desired length. While I did die of old age, I much prefer this thoroughness to a quick, inconsistent cut.
Next, this was the first haircut in 4 tries where the barber actually used scissors. For some reason, barbershops here are obsessed with using thinning shears instead of actual scissors. Sure, thinning shears have their time and place, but they do not make a substitute for regular scissors. The last few times I have gotten my haircut, the guy has completely overused the shears, which makes me look like my hair is falling out. It also has created random, super long hairs that have managed to escape the shears for months. Gollum! Gollum!
Normal scissors on the left, thinning shears on the right.
After the haircut, I got the customary massage/neck popping/torture techniques that accompany men’s haircuts here. This time, the guy grabbed a clear liquid to use on my face, scalp, neck and back, which I soon realized was some kind of massage oil. It had a twist though–I soon noticed it had a menthol effect, similar to Icy Hot. This was fine until he started massaging my face and got the stuff on my eyelids (in an apparent attempt to gouge my eyes out). After about 30 seconds, my eyes started stinging. Because of the sensation, I couldn’t tell if I was crying. When I opened my eyes minutes later, though, they were red and looked like I had just buried a perfectly good tub of Ben and Jerry’s in the backyard. I secretly wiped the tears off my face.
The last thing, which was maybe the strangest, was what was happening behind me. A baby suddenly began screaming (perhaps because his parents just buried a perfectly good tub of Ben and Jerry’s in the backyard), and after about 5 minutes of nonstop, impressively loud screaming and crying, I finally looked back to see what was going on.
They were giving a 6 month old baby a buzz cut! What?!
It looked so wrong, and I was trying to fathom why the parents felt it necessary for their baby to have a military-style buzz cut. I came up with nothing. Ideas?
All in all, it was a success and I’ll go back.