Man in a Salon

I’ve been needing a haircut for about two months now but have been hard pressed for spare time.  Typically my sister does it for me, but I live so far now that it’s become too difficult.  I had no idea where to go so my wife recommended a place.  She put my name down and I waited a long two weeks before losing my mop.

Two weeks is up!  The day is here!  Relief was only a car ride away!  I was like a dog wagging his untrimmed tail.

We pull up to the salon, which I was prepared for it to be.  Yet when we walked in, it felt…and smelled, very feminine.  Some foo foo fragrance wafted around like a cloud of estrogen.  My Y-chromosomes trembled.  A nice young lady greeted us and took me to another nice young lady who took me to her station adjacent to other nice young ladies.  It felt like a very pleasant smelling cult.

The first thing on the list was a wash.  I had just gotten off work so I wasn’t exactly looking forward to removing my sweat-stained hat in front of the girl, but it had to be done.  I broke the seal my pores had made with the hat and gave it to Erin.  Flies began beating at the salon doors.  Then I was led to a cozy little sink where I rested my head and had it washed.  Everything was suddenly grand as my tension eased and the warm water flowed over my scalp.  Yup, it’s a cult.  I’m being helplessly drawn in by their cunning, yet surprisingly gentle shampooing techniques.  It was soon over and time to move on to the main event.

I sat in the chair, feeling awkward again, and let Erin and the stylist decide a good cut for me.  I didn’t care either way.  As I sat, I could hear snippets of conversation from the other women around my station:
“…Vera Wang…”
“…the wedding…”
“…annoying husband…”

The young stylist didn’t take much time to do my hair and the electric clippers were whipped out in no time for the finishing touches.  It didn’t go unnoticed that her co-workers were trying to figure out what that hum-buzzing sound was.
“Oh, it’s the clippers!” one of them exclaimed.  Had it really been that long since a man got his hair cut here?  Should it be recorded and photographed that I even stepped foot into this salon?  Should I plant a flag?

Turns out, there was no cult.  My haircut however, was a success and the experience was a memorable, if not unique one.