Haircut

On Saturday, I went to the big city and had my hair cut, although not with that specific goal in mind. I have never had my hair cut for five (yes - I said five) bucks before, not even when I was very little. Partly because this was a beauty school, and partly because this was the big city, the room where I had my haircut was very large and very crowded. I felt that I was auditioning for something with the amount of mirrors, young people, and general bustle surrounding me. There were a least sixty people packed in this room that had tall ceilings. Although there were two banana tree plants bravely enduring fogs of dust and hairspray underneath a depressing skylight, it did not prevent the room from looking as if it had once been a gritty warehouse for autoparts. As I was the last appointment of the day, and had arrived late, everything might have been more hectic than usual.

As for the young man who cut my hair, his name was Marcus and his barber's chair was in the back middle of a 5 x 7 grid of them. He had a friend who sat on a waste can next to his station by the wall. Occasionally, his friend would help cut my hair. Another guy opposite Marcus would sing sections of R&B songs while he cut yet another customer's hair. Twice, an older persian woman wearing an official white coat stopped by to offer direction to Marcus on how to cut my hair, but because she appeared to be as busy as a person trying to herd a roomful of cats, she was very curt with both her direction and praise. Although I did not say much, I could not help but listen to the comments I recieved and overheard. Among them:

Marcus:
"At least your hair is clean. Yesterday, a woman came in here with a nasty head. I wanted to spray it with ammonia before I touched it. She said that her boyfriend liked her hair a lot, but unless he was a junkyard dog, I don't see how."

"Another woman came in, she had - like - hair in patches, and wanted to look like Halle Berry, you know. I know I can take hair off, but I can't put hair on."

"Man, it's like braveheart."

Another student - female - next to Marcus:
"Your booty keeps knocking into my station, watch it."

Group
"You see Ruben last night, Ruben Studdard? That boy can sing. He don't look like an American Idol, but he sure can sing like one."

Anyway - I don't get my hair cut very often, as you probably can infer from the braveheart comment; but, if I need another and am still in the area, I think I'll go back.