I took it as long as I could. Certainly longer than was expected, and far longer than was decent. I had suffered through wary looks from employers, raised eyes from loved ones, and pained grimaces from lovers. Yet, I would hear none of it. I was bound and determined to grow my hair out to as long as I could stand it. Until finally today, I had had enough. You might say the world had gotten to me in the end, and you might be right, but damned if it isn’t hard to be a long-haired ruffian in this day and age.
Growing your hair our for almost 2 years takes a certain amount gumption, certainly; dragging oneself into a barber after doing so, a certain amount of humility. About the only thing I had going for me on this account was that, living in Normal Heights, my choice of barbers was not small. On the contrary, Normal Heights may have more Salons and Barber shops per square mile than anywhere else in all of San Diego.
Even so it is a Monday, and having dated quite a few hairstyling girlfriends before I’m fully aware how so who practice the Barberic Arts choose not to do so on Mondays. My choices might be hampered by this unlucky day, I knew. Nonetheless I opened my phone and dived into a Google Maps Search of the area. “Normal Heights Barber” literally gave me a dozen options from which to choose my victim. Who would it be? Adams Avenue Barber perhaps? They seemed cool enough, but alas were closed. Then there was Barberside, a truly old-school shop catering to “gentlemen only” sporting the sort of chairs and razor kits one would expect in The Godfather trilogy. Very promising indeed! Also closed.
Were the fates working against me? Had I somehow misinterpreted the stars and assumed it was time for haircut when in reality, such a thing was destined to failure from the start? Then I tried the Barber shop that I was cetrain was least likely to be available: Dinks.
Dinks Barber Shop, at the corner of 32nd and Adams sports an inviting front facade and a exterior side-wall bedecked with the Musician-once-named-then-rechristened-Prince in all his tonsorial glory.
One doesn’t meekly pop their head in such a place inquiring about a haircut. They must stroll in confidently with all the purpose of a dynamo. Surely Dinks Barbershop on Adams Avenue wouldn’t be open on a Monday, and even if they were, they would have no time for the likes of me. Wrong. On both counts.
Google Maps confirmed the Normal Heights Barber being indeed open, even on such an unlucky day. It referred me to Schedulicity an interesting website whereby one could schedule an appointment with a Barber from Dinks. I wasted no time in immediately scooping up the first available slot: 10am. “Spence” would be my Barber I was told. I hadn’t misread the stars after all. It seemed that fate simply ordained that I get a haircut from the Barber closest to my house!
Spence as it turned out was an affable young Barber not at all intimidated by my hair length, and he went to work straight away in freshening up this withered old penny. He was kind enough to do as I asked and not show me the result but rather take ‘before and after’ pictures so I could peruse his work at my own leisure. Looking upon myself now I couldn’t have asked for a more suitable Barber. Another win for the Normal Heights community, as now the residents won’t feel stalked by a deranged hiker when I happen upon them while walking TaTa.