"May I help you?"
"Yes, ma'am. I was looking for a haircut and noticed the place next door is closed despite it's "open" sign being lit."
"There's a place a couple of doors down that's usually open."
I thank her and depart, finding a barber just as she said. I open the door and walk in. 40 Mexicans sitting in chairs, two barbers.
"May I help you sir?" One of them asks.
"Haircut?" I ask.
"Have a seat, it'll be a little wait." No kidding, I think.
One young boy is getting his head scraped from the neck to the wide circumference of his head, and from that point he has a dew about 4 inches long, straight up. It's a this point that I notice both the barbers are gay! Homosexual Hispanic Barbers! I've found hairstyling Mecca! My spirits rise. I reach for a paper, it's in Spanish. I sit to watch the TV, it's on a Spanish station. I take my leave to grab a paperback out of the car and return.
The young boy is finished and the next boy arrives. The barber starts to perform the SAME HAIRCUT! My nervousness returns.
My turn. I remove my glasses and take a seat. "Would you pick a style sir?" the English-speakin barber asks (not the one cutting my hair). I look up at this chart numbered 1-40, with blurry eyes trying to make out a style. I'm saved. "Just clippers in front, scissors on top?" the English-speaker asks?"
"Yes, thank you." I reply.
"What number?"
"Two." I say, thinking back to the two head-scrapes before me.
Well, as it turns out, I received the same haircut as the other two boys, thankfully with a number 2 attachment. It wasn't as bad as it could have been.
