The Family *roll

I had my haircut last week. Well, more like I had my hair shorn. My hair is a somewhat unruly beast. I have had very good haircuts in the past (including one $60 haircut in Chicago that was just awesome), but I’ve learned it’s just not worth the money: my hair looks stylish for about 2 days and then, bam, back to its regular, boring self. As such, I don’t go in for fancy haircuts anymore.

But after this last haircut, I may want to think about raising my standards. There’s an old-fashioned barber shop in downtown Northfield that I decided to try out. From the moment I stepped in the door, I knew I had made a mistake. When I came in, there was a boy in the chair getting a buzz cut. When he was done, his father got in the chair…for a buzz cut. While I was waiting for my turn in the chair, the guy who had an appointment after me came in sporting…a buzz cut (that, I suppose, needed trimming). To top things off, the barber’s name is Buzz. I kid you not. Does he have a buzz cut? No. But he does have a hairpiece, and I think I would rather my barber have a buzzcut than a hairpiece.

I actually had the chance to escape. Buzz was running late and asked me if I had the time to wait for a little while. “I’m afraid I don’t,” I might have said, “I really need to be somwhere at 4.00pm. I’ll just make another appointment. Thanks very much!” But, being a polite Canadian, I automatically said, “Oh, no problem at all,” while simultaneously delivering a quick mental kick to myself.

You will be disappointed to hear that I did not get a buzz cut. But literally 98% of the haircut was done with clippers and, not only was my hair not washed, it was not even wetted with one of those spray bottles. The results were uneven. Literally. Fortunately, what is a vice in the context of expensive haircuts, is a virtue in the context of cheap haircuts: I looked slightly askew and simple-minded for two days, but then my hair reverted to its usual state of blah, so all is well again.

But I guess I’m still a little sensitive. In class the other day, a student that is always always late actulally came early and declared, “Well that’s different,” referring to his timely arrival. I blurted out, “What, my hair? I know,” completely overlooking the fact that the student has seen me twice since I got my haircut. “Uhh, no. The fact that I’m on time,” he said. Oh.