Until yesterday I had not gotten my haircut by a professional in over four years. In that time frame I cyclically grew my hair and beard out with the winter months and around late spring I went clean-shaven and crew cut for the rest of the year. Warm in the winter, cool in the summer. The last time I underwent a molting phase I wrote about it here (it was entitled Shaving My Head: A Case Study). This time around, I wanted a professional.
After nearly six months without grooming my head, I was looking pretty similar to the imgross logo. In hopes of cruising into the spring with a few months’ head start, I decided to go to a barber to get a proper trim. The only barber shop I really knew of was Ruben’s Unisex on Chicago Avenue. Its in a hispanic neighborhood fairly close to my place and frankly it was intriguing, so off I went.
As I pulled up to park my car I saw the familiar red, white, and blue lettering. ”Ruben’s Unisex.” Well, I thought to myself…they gotta take me. I approached the window and saw a middle-aged hispanic gentleman with long, thinning hair pulled back into a ponytail giving this young man a haircut. The bells jingled when I entered and the man turned to face me then politely nodded. I sat down on the wooden bench that ran the length of the wall by the window and watched as he went back to his customer. The floor underneath the seat had a lot of hair around it. A lot. I heard vague Spanish television in the background coming from a TV. I didn’t even notice if there were magazines to look at. That’s the sort of place Ruben’s is.
Before I knew it, the young man getting up out of the barber’s seat. I was up. Now I had to look this pony-tailed hispanic barber in the face and tell him how I want my hair cut, and ask him if he can trim my beard as well. It was right about now I knew that I might be in for an experience.
“One haircut?” he asked in broken English.
“Yes. Please. Just a trim?” I told him (The line between question and statement gets blurred sometimes when I try to communicate with Hispanics). I then pointed to the beard and asked if he could trim that too. After giving it a once over with an experienced eye, he nodded his head in affirmation.
He got to work on my hair with the spray bottle and a black plastic comb as I noticed the TV in the corner that I heard earlier. It was on a commercial break. I closed my eyes and then felt a delicate hand take my hair between two fingers and the haircut began. This man (who I am hoping IS in fact Ruben) worked slowly and deliberately.
Take as long as you want, sir. I’m relaxing. I’m thinking about not having to cut my own hair and how nice it is to pay someone to do it right. As I get older I am learning the value of having things done right.
Minutes go by in darkness as my mind wanders from place to place. I wonder if my sister got that package I sent…I need to buy coffee on the way home…Fuck, did I bring a lighter with me? Then I heard the TV again. Laughing. Spanish and laughing. I opened my eyes, careful not to interrupt Ruben’s work. When my eyes adjusted to the light I realized that it was Mexican stand-up comedy. From a comedic standpoint I loved that this guy just had Mexican stand-up playing on the TV in the background. From a customer’s standpoint it made me a little nervous. Mexican stand-up is pretty hilarious and if Ruben has a sense of humor (which is likely considering the ponytail) I didn’t want him to bust out and cut my ear off. I paid attention to it, trying to make out the jokes but my ears can’t process authentic Spanish at normal speed. It DID sound hilarious, But Ruben was unfazed.
This guy was a fuckin’ pro.
I closed my eyes again and knew I was in good hands. Fingers, snip snip. Fingers, snip snip. Talcum Powder. Scrape, scrape with the straight-razor on the neckline. I tried to stay as still as possible for him the whole time. That requires proper breathing. Deep breathing. That kind of breathing is at the core of so many things. I forgot how relaxing it can be. My head was then tilted backward as my beard was about to get a much-needed shearing. Back and to the left. Ruben went to town on the facial plumage. I’ve now been sitting perfectly still in this seat for a good 30 minutes. My neck is killing me from having my head positioned all around like one of those wooden models used by artists having to draw the human form. I can’t ask him to take a break though. I can’t waste his time. I can waste my dental hygienist’s time…but not this guy’s. I have to endure this pain until he’s done, out of respect. I focused on my breathing again. It will all be over soon. Shortly after that, it was. I was offered a handheld mirror to approve of my haircut. He saw me looking at the sides and top, making sure the length was alright but secretly I was just checking to see how bad my bald spot it getting. Not terrible yet, but I’ve accepted that it will be one day. Im OK with that. Its just what happens with time. You start appreciating some things more and care about other things less. He charged me $20. I gave him $30. That guy earned every bit of that $10 tip and I will be back. But not for a little while, though.
I’m getting ready for the winter.
“which is likely considering the ponytail” awesome