Thursday, April 27, 2006

The Six to Serenity Now

After spending Tuesday evening in a Luxury Box at Yankee Stadium drinking canned beer and bullshiting about every possible sports stat in modern time, last night was quite the change of venue. It was that time again. That special time that happens about every 6 weeks, if I can make it that long. It was time to head to the East Village to that special little oasis that lets me forget that I work 30 blocks north, in a glass and metal monstrosity where phone calls and emails occur at an alarming rate. It was time for…wait for it…wait for it…t was time to get a hair cut.

I was cutting it close as I flew out of work and headed to Grand Central to jump on the 6 train down to Astor Place. I hate to be late, whether it’s for a hair cut or just meeting a friend for drinks. (Note to self, put tardiness on my dislikes list) I feel like there is a 5 minute bumper zone here in the city as most people have to rely on public transportation. This is a far cry from the “I’ll be there in 25 minutes,” which really means 45 minutes in LA’s native tongue.

As I waltzed in a just few minutes late the place as bumping. It has such a good vibe and positive aura that just seems to fill the room from floor to the tin ceiling. The dynamic of the people occupying my little safe haven is always really interesting. Most of the stylists have crazy hair and attire that is dripping in personal style. The funny part is while these purple Mohawk masters of the scissors do what they do, they’re client’s are usually very clean cut and look like they’re imports into the neighborhood just as I am…

As I sat patiently waiting for my guy, the owner, to finish up with his current client, I noticed he didn’t look too far into the process. I’m mean I’m no hair guru but when over heard him say “so what are doing here” as he played with the guys hair assessing his work load and clearing his canvas. At that time the always very polite and attractive dark skinned beauty from behind the counter came over and asked what my name was…

Apparently the gentleman who was just in the stages of “um, yeah just take it up a little in the back” slid into my appointment by answering yes to “hi, are you Just Some Guy” and “are you hear for Nelson?” That bastard! But as I mentioned this place is so calm and comforting, I shrugged it off and headed to the deli on the corner for a cup of coffee and the post. In a city that is so damn full of hustle and bustle there was no way I was going to pull my hair out over something like this…

Thanks for listening


At 10:07 AM , Blogger Another twentysomething said...

Jerk! I'm sure he doesn't go home high off the scalp massage and tress attention like you do. Did you get it cut that day, in the end? Also, thanks for keeping it real- I'm sure that last Mattel post could've got you in trouble, 'specially with the women you know, but props for furthering the dating discussion (that will never end) . :) Cheers


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