New Year, No (Long) Hair by Manny

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"I'm having it all cut off after work today," Paul said casually at the lunch table.

His response to one of his colleague's compliments about his "great hair" sent a shiver of excitement through him.

Paul plunged his fingers through his silken mane, to reinforce the shocking news.

"Yep, it's coming off at the Rosslyn Station Barber Shop on my way home," Paul said, repeating his shocking news.

"The place that specializes in military-length haircuts in the Rosslyn subway station?" Jeremy stammered.

"I'll be looking like GI Joe in a few hours," Paul laughed nervously.

"Why?" Becky asked. "You're one of the few men I know who can pull off long hair. Those natural highlights and sheen -- I'd give anything for hair like yours."

"New Year's resolution, perhaps? I guess I'm just tired of it. Looking for a change. I saw someone getting a high 'n tight at that barber shop during my morning commute, and it just sort of struck me. What a great, no-nonsense, no-maintenance haircut! Get one myself on the way home. Good-bye haircare, good-bye fuss after the gym, good-bye sweaty neck in summer," Paul explained.

"Hello, lather shaved sides and back! Hello jar-head look!" quipped Jeremy. "Have you ever had an ultra-short hair?"

"No, never," Paul answered, beginning to feel a little vulnerable about his announcement.

"Since I've known you, it's always been long," Jeremy noted. "Any chance you'll chicken out? Get cold feet before the point of no return?"

This time Paul ran his fingers through his hair to sooth his nerves.

"I suppose so. But, it's pretty exciting thinking about a mega-change," Paul answered beginning to feel excitement again about his plan.

"Don't cut it short," Becky begged. "You'll break a lot of hearts -- your Fabio-fan-club will mourn."

"Then brace for weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth on Tuesday. I just steeled my determination! I'm going through with it, come what may, and when you see me in the new year, I'll be near BALD!" Paul exclaimed. "Time for the big chop!"

Paul seized a lock of his hair and playfully simulated a pair of scissors with his fingers shearing it off. His groin stirred with delight at the thought of him sitting in the big chair, caped up, head bowed and long hair falling in sheaves to the linoleum floor of the barber shop.

He wanted Mr. Lee, the owner who was famed on social media reviews for giving incredibly short haircuts, to do the honors. Paul had read several dozen reviews on the train that morning -- some warning, but many enthusiastic endorsements of Mr. Lee's determination to give the shortest high 'n tights possible.

One review, in particular, appealed to Paul. "I'm not sure if it was a language impediment or just a disdain for my grown-out floppy business cut. I asked for a bit off all over and came out looking like I'd just emerged from the base barbershop. After the shock of seeing the new me, I rather like the military look! Mr. Lee is my new go-to barber!"

As Paul rode the subway toward the Rosslyn Station after work, he thought about the best way to ensure he was shorn of his abundant mane. The desire to see it all on the floor intensified as the train sped toward his stop.

Paul's first idea to guard against cold feet was to march right in, accept the first barber, blurt out 'high 'n tight' and then grip the arms of the chair as the transformation began.

His second idea was to take a seat outside on a bench in the plaza area and survey the scene. Let his excitement build. Watch Mr. Lee at work for a while and wait. Wait for Mr. Lee to become available so as to ensure the experience was everything he imagined it would be.

Throughout the commute, Paul noted various men with military-length haircuts. They looked sharp and virile, whether in or out of uniform.

Midway to his destination, a commuter sat next to Paul and engaged him in a bit of conversation. Paul's heartrate quickened as he noticed the fellow was in uniform. "Lucky to get a seat," he noted.

"Headed to work or from it?" Paul asked.

"To work, at the Pentagon. I'm on a night shift. We need to be ever vigilant in the defense of the realm," he quipped. Then he removed his cap. Paul strained to see the full glory of a deep pile flattop with crisp, beveled edges. The magnificent flattop intensified his desire to go extremely short.

"What about you?" the officer asked.

"Home," Paul replied. "Actually, I'm headed to the barber shop at the Rosslyn Station and then home. Ever had your hair cut there? It'll be my first visit."

"It's my go-to place! Mr. Lee is a master with flattops. The older gent. But, he won't let you leave his chair with hair like yours," the officer warned.

"That's perfect! I've decided to have this all cut off! Simplifying my life....no more long hair," Paul declared.

The officer smiled, and said, "Wait for Mr. Lee, then. He'll scalp you down to the bone if ultra-short is what you want."

As the train slowed in its approach to the Rosslyn Station, Paul became even more eager to have his feminine locks with their pert bounce sent to the floor by Mr. Lee.

"Good luck," the officer said, as Paul squeezed past him to leave the train. "I hope you don't regret the haircut. I'm always envious of guys who are allowed to wear their hair long -- especially guys like you who can really rock it long."

That final compliment knocked the wind out of Paul's sails unexpectedly. Regret the haircut?! Paul pawed nervously at his long soft locks. Men with buzzcuts, crewcuts, and high 'n tights were dime a dozen. But sexy longhairs were a small, envied minority -- the Fabio-fan-club back at the office would surely mourn. Would there be a similar group gazing longingly at his new high 'n tight? Probably not....

Within moments he was propelled onto the escalator. It was a long, slow ride up to the station. Paul was being carried ever closer, relentlessly, to the stern Mr. Lee who would show his pampered tresses no mercy!!

Suddenly, at the top, the natural flow of the commuter crowd eased him off the escalator. Paul could see the glow of neon down the end of the plaza off to one side.

He dawdled a bit, before moving toward the barber shop. On his way, he saw the sign that advocated the barber shop's expertise with flattops and military haircuts.

Paul decided to do what he'd done multiple times before...he would walk quickly past the barber shop and glance in, without slowing down. Perhaps this wasn't the day after all.

As he walked, he remembered his lunchtime bravado....to return to the office near bald! If he chickened out, Jeremy and others would kid him relentlessly.

Paul walked toward the barber shop door. He saw the large plate glass window with a commanding view of the identically clad Korean barbers. They were dressed in white, from head to toe, including white loafers, who sported standard gentlemen's haircuts. Angels of mercy at work with their large sets of electric hair clippers in hand.

The whole place was buzzing with activity. The row of chairs with their bright red vinyl upholstery looked regal. All chairs were occupied except one -- Mr. Lee's!

Then Paul spotted Mr. Lee standing near the door, waiting for a client. His eyes locked on Paul who was less that ten feet away. Fright or flight? Paul took another step or two and then instinctively froze in his tracks.

"You come for haircut?" the old barber asked Paul, point blank. The way he said it, though, made it hard to determine with it was a question or an affirmative declaration -- 'you come for haircut!'

Paul stammered. 'Get it over with' a voice inside him urged while another warned 'once it's been cut, that's it....'

"Yes, I'm here for a haircut," Paul replied, steeling his nerves.

Mr. Lee smiled faintly. "Good. You need one. There's my chair. Leave your things in the waiting area and take a seat."

Mr. Lee was certainly forceful, actually, downright bossy. Paul complied mildly. He glanced in the mirror. His beautiful long locks... Then he walked over to the chair which, like the others, faced away from the mirror.

He mounted the steel footrest and eased into the comfortable upholstery, telling himself he could still opt for a trim.

"It's your first time here?" Mr. Lee asked the obvious as he fastened a tissue strip around Paul's neck.

"Yes, first time. I saw the advertisement that you do military haircuts," Paul remarked, in a surprisingly calm manner.

The barber struggled a bit, tussling with the copious locks, not attempting to hide his irritation. "So much hair," he murmured. "It needs to be cut short."

The cape flew through the air. Once fastened tightly, Paul's fate was sealed. Mr. Lee would unleash his clippers. There would be no leaving without a haircut. Feeling trapped curiously goaded him on to accept his fate -- off with all the length!

"I would like it cut very, very short," Paul said clearly. "A high 'n tight."

Mr. Lee gathered his long hair in his hand. "All this off!" he said with a tone of satisfaction. "You will look like soldier instead of beauty queen."

Oh, the humiliation....Paul cringed and squirmed on account of the mocking.

"No more princess look," Mr. Lee quipped, sensing that Paul enjoyed the humiliation.

Then, the barber took a pair of shears from his tunic pocket. In a quick, abrupt way he scissored off the clump he was holding. Unceremoniously he tossed the severed locks onto Paul's caped lap.

"No more long hair for you," Mr. Lee said with more than a hint of mirth in his voice.

Paul stared down at the cut hair. He felt a pang of remorse. But, there was no turning back. He decided to make the most out of it.

"I'm glad. Keep chopping it off," Paul said, which kept Mr. Lee energetically whacking away at the silken locks.

"You will be happy when you see yourself with short hair," Mr. Lee said as the lap began to pile up with cut hair.

Mr. Lee randomly chopped off all the length, down to about an inch in length. He was brimming with energy. Hair was everywhere!

"Would you like to see yourself before I start with the clippers?" Mr. Lee offered.

Paul was curious. "Yes, I would like that," he admitted.

Mr. Lee swiveled the chair around to face the mirror.

Paul broke out into a bit of a grin. He didn't look half bad, even though his hair had been chopped short in a haphazard way. What shocked him most was how covered the cape was. Almost no white cloth could be seen, just his shiny locks strewn about.

"You look better?" Mr. Lee asked, hopefully. "I will make it even better still. But, a high 'n tight it not the right length for you. Why not let me give you a deep pile flattop with beveled edges? You would look very handsome with a bit of length on top."

"You are the pro, Mr. Lee. Let's go for it," Paul said with enthusiasm. The thought of a flattop like the one the officer on the train sported excited him.

"Sides clipped short and very deep on top," Mr. Lee stated conclusively.

He swiveled the chair back to face away from the mirror -- Paul would be treated to a big reveal.

The clippers roared to life as Paul's head was forcibly made to bow. The vibration of the metal teeth on his neck and up through his nape felt divine. No wonder the Rosslyn Barber Shop was always full. Paul knew at that moment that Mr. Lee would be his new regular barber. He would never again see such a huge pile of cut hair on his lap. Mr. Lee would keep him buzzed short!

The clipping continued and Paul was very cooperative in turning his head exactly as Mr. Lee directed with his steady hand.

At last, the machine was turned off and Mr. Lee plied some product into Paul's hair on top and brushed it all erect. Paul watched Mr. Lee's faint smile as he carefully brought the top down, slowly and steadily flatening it in the process.

"You are looking like a real man, now," Mr. Lee chirped. "Perfect hair for a deep pile flattop!"

Paul basked in the praise. He would never again grown his hair long.

Mr. Lee finished the haircut. "Ready to see the new you?" he asked, eager to show off the makeover he'd crafted.

"Ready!" Paul said.

The show did not disappoint. The top was tall and lush and shiny! The sides skinned, with faint peppery stubble showing. He looked like the officer on the train!

The finishing touches were lather dabbed around the ears and neck and a razor cleaning away the stray strands that had somehow miraculously survived the brutality of the makeover.

Mr. Lee showed off the haircut with a hand mirror.

"Oh, amazing!" exclaimed Paul.

"But you wanted a high 'n tight, no?" teased Mr. Lee. "Perhaps you should get one, after all. Take almost everything off."

Paul gulped. "I think this is fine for today."

"Next time, I will take the top down shorter," Mr. Lee said, "I will give you a nice landing strip."

Paul squirmed in the chair. Oh, that sounded so masculine and manly.

The cape came off. "In two weeks, I see you again here in the chair," Mr. Lee said.

"For sure!" exclaimed Paul, emerging with a new look and feel. "And you will give me a landing strip!"

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