Found A Spot

Romanticizing the barbershop is something I'm quite fond of. In my childhood, I think I made it the place where I interacted with "real" people. I think I was just jealous of all the ghetto latchkey children who came and went as they pleased. And I kind of admired all the teens and older kids in flashy fake gold with elaborate handshakes to match their precisely cut Gumbys and fades.

But I always felt like an outsider. In adulthood, I still have searched for that mix of camaraderie, familiarity, and just straight comfort. The closest I got was when I had dreads. I saw the same stylist for the duration of their existence, and we developed quite the rapport. Even followed him to his new digs and paid for a $25 cut and shave just cause of the familiarity factor. But I realized it wasn't smart to keep paying and my sojourns have taken me back to those places where I enjoyed it, but still an outsider.

I think the search is over though. I went to this place a couple months ago because my usual spot had a longer line than I would have liked. But the barbers there are mostly West Indian and hearing their patois, sometimes decipherable, makes me feel quite comfortable. And today when I walked in after someone, my usual barber actually said I was next. They're comfortable enough to watch "Ellen" and British comedy on the flatscreen as well. Most importantly, the cuts are precise and he doesn't ask if I want a razor for my shaves. He just does it. The fact that I can laugh along with their conversation, even as they diss potential customers under the disguise of their funny foriegn colloquialisms just adds to the allure.

It's nice to have a home.