Yesterday

Was rainy and cold which made me want to stay indoors, but I needed a haircut. I shrugged off my fatigue and overall laziness, and ventured to the barbershop. As soon as I entered I was relieved to see that nobody was waiting. I hate waiting for haircuts. Watching other people get serviced while you wait is like being in line at Great America. Those lucky bastards. Anyway,I saw something very strange after taking my seat. It was a man threading another man's eyebrows. He had the thread in his mouth and would bob up and down to remove the hair. I won't go into the details, but it didn't look very Adam and Eve. What made it odder was the look of the men. Now, I don't like to profile people based on their ethnicity, well that's a lie, but you know what I mean, but let's just say I wouldn't want to run into these guys in a dark alley. I was hoping the threading would be done in a prompt manner because it started before I came, but it took much longer than I had expected. The shop had another room where there were usually a few barbers. When I entered this room I immediately saw a very old woman getting a pedicure. Just great. I must have stumbled in on outlandish day. I then saw the owner who had cut my hair many times in the past, but he was busy with a customer. After taking a seat a Desi woman who was probably in her early 30's walked in. She went behind a curtain and disappeared for a few moments. When she returned I noticed that she has a huge gold-stud nose ring. Then she asked me: "Do want hairuct?" I said sure and made my way to the chair. When she put the cape around me and the white strip around my neck, I began to choke. Homegirl was trying to catch a murder case before noon. I told her I felt uncomfortable. She replied with: "Is too much tight?" I said yes and then the owner said: "Him saying is too much tight. Make looooooooose." She loosened the noose and I told her what I wanted. I got a bit scared because she was fumbling through a drawer looking for the appropriate clippers. This added to my apprehension of almost having my wind-piped crushed, and the fact that I had never visited her and wasn't sure how good she was at her job, made my anxiety heighten. When she found what she was looking for, she started to use hairspray on the machine that was to trim my hair. I thought hairspray was for hair, but what the hell do I know? She began with the top of my head. Not a bad job so far. When she got to the sides, I was pleased. When she got to the back of my head, this is where I thought things might go wrong because I couldn't see her work. Also, I don't know if I have a small head, or she has huge hands, but when she put her hand on top of my hand to get better control ( that sounded really wrong) her fingernails were damn near my earlobes. I bet she could grip a basketball with one hand. All of a sudden she stopped because the barber next to her wanted to know which beverage of that was on the ledge by the mirrors was hers. She pointed at a bottle of Evian water and said: "This mine." Then she pointed to a 20oz of Diet Coke and said:"This not mine. So that mean must be yours." Amazing deduction skills. Maybe she should give up her job and become a detective. After the haircut was done she showed me the finished product. I wasn't too happy with it, but I said I was because I wanted to get the hell out of there. By this point she had choked me, tried to crush my skull, sprayed her tools with a foreign substance, and probably had vodka in her water bottle which explained the previous incidents. I tipped her pretty well. Well, at least I think I did. The grim look on her face suggested otherwise. I am Baliwala. I go to the Motherland to my hair layered by future crime solvers named Priya Holmes. That is all.