I wonder if a driving instructor’s son is petrified of getting in the car with his friends. If so, I know how he feels.
Going to school five hours away from home required me to find a new place to get a haircut. This being the first time I was away from my barber/father for an extended period of time. I went into downtown Bloomington and found a place that had the look and feel of an authentic barbershop. My dad even did the work of bringing in free clippers to give to the man, so that my haircuts would come for free for a little while.
The first time I went, the man was nice, gave me a free haircut, and wished me a good few weeks until I came back next time. With how often I was able to go home first semester, I only went in one time during the first four months of school. Second semester, though, I went a full month before cracking and deciding to make an appointment. When I walked in, though, I found that the old man had retired. In his place was a young, bleach-blonde kid, who was dressed more like a frat boy than the hair-sculptors that I was accustomed to.
I sat in the chair and told the guy what I wanted. I should have known how the rest of the experience would go when he asked me “So you want a 1 guard along the back?” I guess I am cursed with having a trainer and technical expert as a father, because I know that no respectable barber would ask the question like that.
When the dust had settled, I think I walked away with a pretty good haircut. Was it as good as what I would have gotten from my father? Of course not. But it will most definitely do for the next few weeks. Plus, the barber had a good attitude, and I enjoyed making small talk, which is a very different experience when you don’t have to live under the same roof as the guy.
When the cut was over, I had to do something I’ve never done before: I had to actually reach for my wallet. The haircut was reasonably affordable, but the thought of paying for a haircut was definitely not one that I had ever considered.
Overall, the barbershop that I went to did an excellent job of attempting to keep up with my exceptional expectations. It was a enjoyable time, and definitely the second best option to my own basement.
End result: I’m waiting until I go home for the next one.
