Barbershop Blues

Here's a little story to show you what kind of magic goes on down at the local barbershop.

I hadn't been to Habib's for over four years because of college, and one day I just felt the urge to go and drop in on my barber. I was a little nervous because I was more vain about my appearance now that I was older.

I remembered my first time to his shop when I was young. This rocker named Banda from the neighborhood dragged me in one day and I couldn't understand why he was so anxious. As soon as we sat down I found out why. There was the biggest stack of Playboy's and Penthouses I had ever seen. Especially since I had never seen one before. He volunteered to get his hair cut first while I sat in the corner hiding a Penthouse behind a Sports Illustrated, trying not to look at the guy cutting hair.

When it was my turn to get my hair cut I had a boner that was fully visible in my sweat pants. I ran over to the chair bent over trying to cover it with my shirt.

"How do you like?"

"What?"

"How do you like your hair?"

"Oh! Uh, I dunno. Just leave the hair alone on top and clean up the back. Cut it to about here and make the sides about that long."

He proceeded to give me what I would find out to be the only hair cut he knew. It wasn't even close to what I had asked for, but that was a small price to pay for the experience. In a way, I had passed a rite of passage in that barber shop....

When I walked in, there was the man himself, cutting a little boys hair. The kids mom was happy about her son's haircut and that made me a little less edgy.

He looked at me for about two seconds and then a huge smile appeared under his mustache.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Long time no see, huh? How are you doin'?"

"I had a heart attack a year ago," he told me matter-of-factly. "But I'm doing all right.

He went on to finish up the little boy's hair.

I had just opened a Playboy when Habid finished with the kids hair. A shame too, cause there were supposedly nude shots of Shannon Doherty in there. With the kid still in the chair, Habib answered the question I had been wondering about. He always used to give us a massage when he finished our hair. It was this little machine he slipped over his hand that looked about fifty years old. I sometimes thought of that machine when I got my haircut by someone else. But no other haircutter had the same tool. I wondered if he'd use it on me or if it was only for little kids. I was about to find out, however, because it was my turn to take the chair.

"Sit down. What should we do with this?" he asked about my hair.

"Just a little trim."

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Nah, but I got a date tonight."

"After I finish, you'll be sure to get laid!"

Wow!

Hair started flying right away. As soon as the clippers clicked to a hum, they flew across the side of my head, taking all but a half centimeter with them. After that insurance move, there's nothing you can do. I got scared.

He must have seen my anxiousness. "Don't worry. I'll make it look good."

Phew! Now I wasn't worried at all.

I've got to get a flowbee.

The kid before me got the same haircut I did, and I'm sure the guy after was getting the same one, too. I had no hair when I left that place. So much for getting laid. But it was well worth it, because before I had gotten out of the chair, the drawer slid open and that machine went back on his hand. Instant smile.

I walked out of that shop feeling loose!