This one begins when I paid a visit to the hair salon. No, I wasn’t just visiting them without any purpose, I actually got my hair cut. Most people love showers because of the freedom it affords them. They can sing, dance and think, or just battle crippling anxiety and depression while standing under that constant stream of water, a metaphor for the slow and constant passing of time, leading us all to our eventual deaths. Anyway, people love showers mostly because of the isolation it provides them to sing or think deeply about things they wouldn’t really think about at other times. It’s easy to see why there’s a whole community built around this.
Unlike most people, I prefer to do all this while I’m at the barber’s. Not the singing and dancing, mind you. The thinking. There’s no better situation more apt for thinking, as sitting in an air-conditioned room with music blasting in the background, a sharp instrument really close to your ears, clipping away at the hair you’ve spent months nurturing and growing. You can’t help but wonder if the barber is a latent sex offender,as he offers you a free face masssage after the haircut. But, experience has taught me over time that this isn’t the case. I digress. Also, haircuts are one of the few situations where I can get the job done, without much talking. That earns it bonus points in my book.
As my thoughts wandered in the salon, I couldn’t help but notice one thing. John Travolta was right in Pulp Fiction. It’s the little things that make two places different. Not the entire tradition and customs or ethnic make up, just the little things. (Note this down, kids, that’s how you generalise things.) It’s the same with barbers. It’s the attention to details that sets apart a good salon from a great one.
One particular salon I frequented all the time, before I returned to my hometown after finishing college, prided itself on its attention to detail. The barber’s cape they would drape over me had the name of the salon embroidered over it. That’s pretty normal, but the design in itself was such that when I looked into the mirror in front of me, there it was, the name of the salon, exactly how it should be. I gazed down and saw that the embroidery was inverted, so that when patrons looked into the mirror, the name appeared un-inverted. And then, the barber got pissed off because I moved my head as he was working on it.
At the salon I went earlier this week, though, that wasn’t the case. It was a plain cape, with no thought put into how the embroidery might look like to a customer in the mirror. But I guess this doesn’t matter all that much in the end. Maybe nobody else puts so much thought into these things as I do. Maybe they do, but they don’t launch into wordy, winding rants about it online. Nevertheless, this train of useless thoughts had to come to an end when the barber was done with his job. Fast forward a couple of minutes, to skip over an awkward social interaction I had with the barber, and I’m in my shower, thinking about how I never have thoughts in the shower, but during haircuts. So meta.
If you’ve somehow managed to reach this point and not fall asleep, consider liking my Facebook page. You won’t find any wholesome memes, but you will find occasional updates and links to all my posts. And bad jokes.