Unfamiliar Territory by barbershort

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Unfamiliar Territory

It was a warm September Monday, and I had just turned 11 years old. I was by myself walking home from the local school in the small and unfamiliar Pennsylvania town, where I had only been living for the last month. After a few minutes, I found myself on the main street of the area and just then, a man approached me.

He looked to be in his 60s. He had pale white skin, a bald head, and a slim, tall stature.

"Hey kid, are you new to town?" He said.
Startled, I stopped in my tracks and looked up at him. "Yeah, I just moved here last month. My house is just a few streets up."
"Well, that’s great kiddo. I can’t help but notice your hair is quite shaggy, have you had a haircut since you got here?"

The man was right. It had been over 3 months since my last haircut and as a result, I was sporting a massive golden mop of blonde hair cascading down to my ears and over much of my sparkling blue eyes.

"No sir, not yet."
"Well then, my name is Mr. Wilson, I own the men’s shop just on the corner here in town. I can take care of that mess on your head for you right now, no charge!"

I decided to, reluctantly, take Mr. Wilson up on his offer. You see, over the summer, a constant routine of video games and mindless snacking caused the curve of a small, albeit visible belly to develop, rounding out atop my previously toned, boyish frame. This unsightly change, along with the unmanageable shagginess of my hair, deeply angered my father, who was disgusted with the lifestyle changes projected by me, his only son. Getting a haircut on my own accord would surely get dad off my back and show my commitment to staying sharp.

After accepting this arrangement, I followed Mr. Wilson to the other side of the block, where a small, single-chair facility, complete with the traditional barber pole stood.

Mr. Wilson unlocked the front door, switched on the lights, and immediately donned a crème-colored nylon barber smock, which snapped up tight around his body and neck. He then placed a booster on the vintage black leather barber chair, complete with the secure headrest, armrests, and footrest designed to keep the client secure.

Sternly, he pointed to the chair and commanded me to have a seat.

I obliged, and awkwardly positioned my bottom on the booster seat, with my legs dangling above the footrest. Mr. Wilson was quick to grab me at my armpits and pull me up against the seatback.

"Son, this is a traditional barbershop, so I expect proper posture at all times."
"Yes sir." I responded.
Without delay, Mr. Wilson then turned me towards the mirror and strapped on a pair of white latex gloves, feeling up my blonde locks along his fingers.

"Kid, this is just disgraceful, your hair is beyond tangled and full of knots. I’m going to have to start you off with a vigorous hair wash."

"I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know it was so tangled."

"Clearly, you’re not responsible enough for long hair, so you’re going to have some very short work done with the razor at the end. Got it?"

My eyes widened, realizing I had only ever had scissored haircuts in the past, and that a drastic change was Mr. Wilson’s intention for me.

"How short will it be with the razor cut?" I inquired.

"That’s not any of your concern kiddo. Remember you’re sitting in this chair today on my dime, so I will make all the decisions. You just sit still and be quiet and you’ll get what’s best for you."

Before I could respond, the strict barber taped up a neck strip on me, then unfolded a teal, child size vinyl cape designed with little alien graphics. I sneered at the thought of having to wear something so childish and humiliating, but I knew better than to whine to the strict man cutting my hair.

Mr. Wilson firmly snapped up the cape against the neck strip, and after folding the paper down and adjusting the cape over my entire torso, I realized just how tight and uncomfortable it was at my neck.

The chair was then turned facing opposite the mirror, and without warning I was reclined into the station sink. The water was started and and Mr. Wilson began to condition my tangled mop, placing his open palm on my nylon covered chest to keep me secure during the shampooing process. The warm water and detangling felt really good, as was obvious to the barber.

"Enjoy it while it lasts buddy, a short haircut means we won’t need to wash your hair before appointments ever again."

Here, I realized this short cut would be permanent, as this was the only place to get a haircut in the small town.

Without delay, my hair was dried, and I was put back in the upward position. The haircut process began with Mr. Wilson combing all my hair and used a series of hairclips to position the excess length above the head. Then, he removed the headrest and pushed my head down and my shoulders back.

Facing away from the mirror with my head down, I could only hear the whir of the #2 clipper come to life and make contact with my lower nape for the very first time.
After the back of my head was fully sheared, the barber transitioned to my lengthy sideburns. Mr. Wilson stared at me directly in the eye while he buzzed off layers of golden hair, allowing to fall softly onto the shiny vinyl much to my horror. With the length of the short back and sides set, Mr. Wilson put away the #2 clippers and applied shaving cream around the edges of my forehead.

"You’re going to remain as still as possible now kid, and I’ll make sure of it."
I responded with the obligatory "Yes sir."

Like clockwork, the headrest was replaced, I was reposited onto it forcefully, and Mr. Wilson got to work squaring off my forehead with the straightedge of the razor. The single blade was extremely rough, and it paled in comparison to the comfort of the hair salon back home.

After this, the headrest was removed and I felt the gloved hand on top of my head pushing me forward while shaving cream was applied from the base of the neck strip up to ear level. What followed was a precise neck shave, and the barber ensured no hair remained. Only smooth skin.

Suddenly, the shaving cream was wiped away and I was turned back facing the mirror and all hair clips were removed.

Mr. Wilson was finished. I thought.

"Woah, this is so short!"
"Not so fast," said Mr. Wilson. "I still have to take care of the top with scissors."

What followed was the harsh ship-snip-snip of the scissors as long stands of hair fell onto the cape.

Interestingly, Mr. Wilson broke the ongoing silence and struck up some conversation as he continued his work with the scissors.

"So, kiddo, since you’re new to town, I’m sure you’re looking for ways to keep busy. Is that right?"

"Yes, besides school I don’t have much to do in this sleepy place."

"You know, it’s just me running this barbershop. I could really use a helper here on Saturdays to greet clients and clean up the station. Are you up for the job? It could earn you lots of allowance money."

I perked up at the thought of earning some cash, and a little work would surely show dad I can take initiative, especially if it keeps me on my feet and getting back in shape.

"I would love to!"
"Excellent, on your way out of here today I’ll pass along a business card for mom and dad and talk to you more about my expectations for work."
At this point, Mr. Wilson had finished shaping up my hair, leaving me with the sharpest looking, most boyish short back and sides. I actually liked the preppy style of the haircut, although it was far out of the norm for me. He added a little pomade to complete the look and swiftly lowered the chair, removing the cape and neck strip in the process and shaking off all the fallen hair.

"Alright, hop up and come see me at the front."

I then got out of the chair and arrived at the front desk, where the barber handed me a business card.

"This is for your parents. Be sure to let them know about the barbershop here in town!"

"I will sir."

"And regarding your work, I need you here at 7 AM this Saturday and every Saturday thereafter. You’ll be put in a barber smock just like mine in your size and it must be worn as your uniform. I’ll also cut your hair at the end of your shift."

"Got it?"
"Got it."

"Right then, run along now, and I’ll see you this Saturday. Be good kid!"

TO BE CONTINUED

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