posted by Joe Anaya on April 28th, 2014

I desperately needed a haircut. I hate when my hair gets too long. It doesn’t just get long it gets wavy and wavy makes it bigger. I feared becoming one of Matt W’s old men with bad hair.

As mentioned in a previous blog, even though hair grows slowly, I’m very bad at planning ahead and making an appointment. So, typically one morning, I’ll look in the mirror in a panic, “My god my hair is gigantic. I need a hair cut.” I’ll call my stylist and beg her for an appointment. Typically, she’ll take pity on me and squeeze me in, for a quick cut within a couple of days.

But this day, her next available appointment was a week away. I couldn’t wait that long. My hair was driving me crazy. So, I started driving around town looking for a place to get a cut. The first two stops were no go. They were both booked all day. There must have been run on hair cuts.

I spot a Latino barber shop. I’m not being racist and/or politically correct, that was the name on the building, “Latino Barber.” When I walk in, I see a classic barber shop, four barber chairs, mirrors, a row of chairs for waiting customers, and the classic glass jars filled with blue liquid and combs. This place is perfect.

I make eye contact with one of the women cutting hair and ask, “Can I get a hair cut?” She nods and says something in Spanish to a blonde stylist who was sitting and chatting with one of the other customers.

When the blonde turns toward me, I realize she’s a he. And not an attractive one. He’s thick and squatty. He has shoulder length stringy bleach blonde hair. He looks like a Latino version of the killer from Silence Of The Lambs.

As he nods me towards the chair, I notice that he’s wearing high heels with black slacks, the rest of his ensemble is covered by his smock. I’m hoping it’s not a blouse made of human skin. I don’t mind the cross-dressing (I work in Hollywood.), it’s the uncanny resemblance to the creepy killer that’s throwing me off.

He/she doesn’t speak much. I’m not sure s/he understood my words as I pantomimed how I wanted my hair cut. S/he grunted and started cutting away.

As I sat in the chair and the stylist worked his/her craft, my mind wandered. “Silence Of The Lambs was really good.” “Man, that serial killer was creepy.” About the time that thought crossed my mind, my stylist pulled out a straight razor. Seriously, a straight razor.

I think in all my years of getting hair cuts, I’ve only had a straight razor used on me once when I was a small child and my dad took me to his barber. But that was about 100 years ago. So, to see one now in the hands of a transvestite who looks like a famous killer, is a little unsettling.

I obviously survive the close shave. But I’m definitely thinking, “I need to do a better job of making appointments with my hair cuts. Or I may end up here again.” Then s/he tells me the cut was $12. $12! That’s cheaper than SuperCuts AND I got a shave. Maybe I will plan on coming here next time.

 

 

 



File Under Mr. Cool