Eavesdropping by ClipperAddict

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Have you ever overheard a haircut conversation that has sparked your imagination? Recently on a plane to Los Cabos in Mexico I sat beside a young man (Mike) who was going on vacation with his father. His dad was sitting a couple of rows in front of us. As we were waiting to get off the plane I overheard this exchange: Mike to his father, " Hey Dad, I never thought I’d say this but you look really cool with a shaved head." To which his dad responded, " You know Mike I never thought I’d have the guts to take it all off, but I’m glad I did. This looks a lot better than that fringe I’ve been sporting forever, though I can’t believe how quickly it’s growing in. Two days since I got buzzed, and already I’m covered in fuzz."

That conversation was the inspiration for the story that follows as told by Mike.

My dad has been losing his hair for as long as I can remember. Even in my baby pictures, he has just a few tufts on top of his head, and a healthy fringe of hair round the sides and the back. Since my parents split four years ago, my dad moved to L.A. and I only see him during school vacations. For the past couple of years we’ve been going to Mexico to fish and play golf. He’s a lot of fun to be with, and I always look forward to spending time with him. Although we spend a lot of time apart, I’m very close to him.

Imagine my surprise when he turned up at the airport bald. I couldn’t believe it, he is so conservative, and even though he didn’t have a lot of hair, he normally gets it cut every couple of weeks at an upscale salon. As soon as dad saw me he said "So what do you think?"

"You’re bald", I replied, "When did this happen?"

"The day before yesterday," he began to explain. "Well, I tried to get an appointment with Gina at the salon where I normally go, but I left it too late. I was kind of frustrated because I had to cancel a couple of weeks ago and was beginning to look like Bozzo the clown. Joe that works beside me was making fun of me for going to a salon in any case. According to him it was a waste of money. He said I should go visit Ken the barber he goes to in the shop across from the office. He would take care of me, and I’d actually get a decent haircut."

"Did you want it that short?" I asked completely enthralled by my ‘new’ dad.

"No, I had just intended to get a regular haircut like I normally do." Dad continued, "It was just so different in the barber shop. I felt awkward when Ken asked me how I wanted it cut. I asked for a regular cut, maybe a little bit shorter. Then he started to fire questions at me as to whether I wanted him to use clippers, did I want it blocked or tapered, what number should he use…. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Gina only uses clippers to clean up the fuzz on my neck. So I thought I’d turn it around and ask him what he would recommend."

"And his recommendation was shave it off?" I asked incredulously.

"Not to begin with," Dad hesitated, "Ken asked me if I wanted him to be honest, and when I nodded he recommended that I go for a short buzz. I was kind of shocked at first but then as I thought about it, the prospect of doing something daring, a little unpredictable just took a hold of me and I told him to go for it. He grabbed some big black clippers, snapped on a red plastic attachment, placed his hand on the top of my head, titled my head slightly to the left, placed the clippers below my right sideburn and began to move them slowly upwards plowing through my hair. Before I knew it I had about a half-inch crewcut, and Ken was asking me if I liked it, if it was short enough. It was so cool Mike, but I was so wrapped up in the whole experience I asked him if he thought I should go shorter. That was when he looked straight at me in the mirror and said, ‘This looks good, but if you really want my advice, I’d buzz it all off. Take it right down to the wood. You’ve got a great shaped head, and it will make you look years younger.’"

"Whoa, that was pretty bold," I stammered. "So let me guess, you told him to go for it?" Dad laughed and rubbed his hand over his newly shorn head and said, "That’s pretty much how it came down. I know it’s a shock Mike, and I can’t explain it but I feel great."

By now we were at the gate to board our flight to Los Cabos. The plane was full, and unfortunately we couldn’t get seats together. I sat a couple of rows behind my dad and couldn’t take my eyes of him the whole flight. He looked so different, but Ken was right he does look years younger, and it’s a long time since I saw him so happy and relaxed. As we were standing waiting to get off the plane I told him, " Hey Dad, I never thought I’d say this but you look really cool with a shaved head."

Dad was thrilled, " You know Mike I never thought I’d have the guts to take it all off, but I’m glad I did. This looks a lot better than that fringe I’ve been sporting forever, though I can’t believe how quickly it’s growing in. Two days since I got buzzed, and already I’m covered in fuzz."

I could tell this was going to be a great vacation, but I never would have predicted what happened next. We arrived at the hotel about 9:00 pm, went out for a light dinner and were fast asleep by 11.

The next morning I woke to a faint buzzing sound. Dad’s bed was empty. I guessed he was in the bathroom as the light was shining under the closed door, and that seemed to be the source of the noise. The buzzing had stopped for a minute or so when the bathroom door opened and my dad shouted, "Mike can you come here a minute, I need your help." I shot out of bed and hurried in to the bathroom. My dad was standing there with his head covered in shaving cream except for one strip on the right side of his head, which was shaved smooth. There was a set of red shiny clippers on the counter, dark fuzzy stubble on the floor. Before I could say anything dad pre-empted me saying, "I decided to do the ultimate and shave my head completely, only I’m not that confident and don’t want to botch it up. Will you do the honors for me Mike?"

"This is unbelievable," I stammered. " Where did the clippers come from?"

"Oh, I picked them up yesterday. I was going to just keep my head buzzed. I can’t explain it but once I got done buzzing my head with the clippers I got this insatiable urge to shave my head smooth. Are you going to help me finish the job or not?"

With that, I got to work. At 16, I have only been shaving my own face for about 6 months, and even then only once or twice a week at most. This was an incredible rush as I slowly and carefully slid the razor up and over my dad’s head, making sure not to miss even the smallest spot. When I was finished dad ran his fingers gently over his head to check my handiwork. Even if I do say so myself, I did an outstanding job. His head was ultra smooth, shining back at him in the bathroom mirror. We both stared at his reflection, and slowly in unison broke into enormous grins.

I was mesmerized. My dad looked fantastic. The transformation from boring, conservative, middle-aged, regular dude to cool, sophisticated, happening guy was amazing. His deep green-blue eyes suddenly popped out and dazzled in a way I’d never noticed. As I became conscious of staring at him I looked up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The resemblance was weak. My eyes seemed similar, just overwhelmed by this mop of dark wavy hair. Like my dad, I had never been to a barbershop. I visited a trendy salon every 6 weeks or so to have my 8 to 10 inch locks trimmed. My head had never seen a pair of clippers. That was about to change as this strange urge now came over me.

I picked up the red clippers from the counter and examined them. Wahl balding clippers the white writing red. How descriptive I thought as I found the switch and turned them on. "What are you doing?" dad asked in what seemed like slow motion as I raised the clippers to my forehead, and before I could think about it, plunged them onto my hairline and back towards the crown of my head. The impact was instant and obvious as this cascade of dark curls fell on to my shoulders, to be instantly replaced by this streak of white skin down the middle of my head with only the faintest hint of dark stubble. We both stood there staring at my reflection. Once again simultaneously enormous grins broke on our faces only this time accompanied by a burst of convulsive laughter. I looked directly at my dad and handed him the clippers and said, "Will you do the honors for me dad?" He didn’t hesitate. He sat me down on the stool in front of mirror, took the clippers, made another pass back from my forehead, and repeated a couple of times. He stopped briefly before moving on to the sides and back just to let me see what I looked like with male pattern baldness. In five minutes all my hair was on the bathroom floor. Staring back at me in the mirror was this young man with the most amazing blue-green eyes that looked familiar except this wasn’t my dad, it was me. As I reached up with my hands, the feel of fine sandpaper all over my head was captivating, but before I could get used to it dad splattered my head with a generous dollop of warm shaving cream and began to rub it gently all over my scalp. What a rush as he took the razor with a brand new blade and pulled it back from my forehead revealing this path of soft smooth skin. Stroke after stroke he carefully peeled the remaining stubble from my head. This was amazing! As I stared at my shiny new look in the mirror I could not stop grinning.

After a couple of days of sun with generous amounts of sunscreen, our heads started to tan quite nicely. Separately we came to the same conclusion as we ventured into the bathroom on the third morning and both lathered up. There was no way we were going home with hair.

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