Fort Lauderdale Surfer Boy part II by Anthony

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Bear with me if you can, this is pretty much me tapping out train of thought from memory.
Following my second barber shop head shave at fifteen, I managed to keep it clipper shaved on a daily basis before growing it out to a crewcut at the beginning of my sophomore year. I was ok with the crewcut, but compared to having a shaved head, it didn't really do anything for me so to speak. I didn't go back to the barber at Lauderdale by the Sea, but to my dad's old barber near downtown. Ironically by that time, even my dad was a regular at a salon, not the barber shop. Then again, it was the mid 80's.

I much preferred the old school experience, plus it was the site of my original, unexpected shave over three years earlier. Looking back those cuts seems pretty tame by the fades I see walking around these days. I don't think I ever went shorter than a #4 on top, sometimes tapered pretty damn close on the sides. Those bimonthly trips to the barber shop didn't last long. Not sure why, but I just wasn't feeling the standard crewcut. Although I never stopped fantasizing about being shaved again, I sort of plopped the idea on the back burner and was distracted by high school life. I still had swim team at the crack of dawn and ended almost every day at the beach. So after a year and a half or so, the mop was back in all it's glory. I get a chuckle looking at old pics. My sister loves to plaster them on Facebook and tag them as Meg Ryan.

After finishing junior year we had to go get our senior portraits taken for school. My mom begged me to get a haircut and even tried to talk me in to getting my hair dyed back to its normal dark brown, all for a photo op. I declined, but ended up blow drying the crap out of my hair until it was straight and parted right down the middle. Funny to look at now, but pretty typical in the summer of 83.

Once that obligation was out of the way I started obsessing over the thought of getting another head shave and being bald again. It didn't take long and I was driving downtown scoping out the barbershop, circling the block and trying to get up the nerve to take the plunge again. I knew myself pretty well by this point, and knew if I walked in to the shop it wasn't going to result in a crewcut. It was all or nothing. I ended up parking in the bank garage across the street. From my car I could see Ray (the barber) sorta leaning again the front window, looking out at the street. I knew if I got out of the car and walked out of the garage he would surely spot me. I waffled back and forth, but eventually got out and walked across the street and into the shop.

Open chair, no waiting. Once I sat down and got caped up I actually felt somewhat relaxed and relieved. After chatting for a bit, Ray got out the clipped asked if we were doing #4 on top again. I told him I was ready to go back to the Kojak cut he had given me five years earlier. He seriously thought I was joking, but I promised I wasn't. This was a much better experience the beach barber shop. Ray had classic Oster, the super loud kind that cut through hair like a knife in hot butter. Whole mop gone in 60 seconds. Year to grow, and poof, on the floor. Just calling up the memories and I can smell the hot lather and feel the scrape of the straight razor on stubble. So much more sensual than a can of foamy and a disposable Bic.

I went back four times I think over the summer for shaves. I hated growing it out, but it was worth it for the full service experience at a shop.

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