What I Did on my Summer Vacation by A Recruit

---

This Summer, I got a haircut. Here's how it happened.

My friend John came over one day in July. I suggested we walk down to the town, and perhaps catch a movie. John seemed keen, but then his enthusiasm waned.

"I’ve only got this," he said waving a ten dollar bill at me, "and it’s for me to get a haircut with."

I was surprised that John was going to get a haircut. He had dark brown hair, which he pushed back over his head, resulting in a thick tumbling mass of curls hanging around his shoulders. He had longer hair than many of the girls in our class at school, and was often mistaken for one.

I often chuckled when I thought about the episode of the new gym teacher at school, bellowing at us for allowing a girl into the changing rooms, it was a close call as to whether the teacher or John was the most embarrassed. He was still regularly teased about this, and people had started to call him Joan!

"A haircut? You?" I expressed with mock shock.

"Yeah, well I’ve been meaning to for a while, but, well you know," he replied.

I wasn’t sure I did, my brother and I were despatched to the local barbershop the first Saturday of every month without fail, always on a Saturday morning. It was a routine that we were now well used to, and one we accepted without question. It didn’t seem at all difficult! Though as I ruffled my own hair, I remembered that I’d actually missed out last month as we were away on a school trip. My hair was probably longer than it had ever been, perhaps two or more inches long on top and back, flicked backward to keep it off my ears.

"Do you want to go now?" I asked helpfully, thinking this was something I would really love to see.

John thought things over, his deliberations culminating in a decisive nod of the head, and we headed for town.

It was only a ten-minute walk to my local barbershop, and we were soon standing outside. John started to dither, so I pushed him into the shop. He looked a little startled as his eyes darted around the small shop. I took a seat against the far wall, and he dutifully followed, his eyes fixed on the barber’s chair. I was determined — he wasn’t going to back out, after he’d come so far!

It was a mercifully short wait, a young school boy was receiving the finishing touches from the barber’s scissors, there was plenty of blonde locks of hair littering the cape, suggesting the boy had just suffered a significant haircut.

He was freed from the chair, and the hair spilled to the floor, amongst a mass of brown hair cuttings in various piles across the shop floor. The boy’s mother paid, and smiled at her smart son proudly.

The barber stood holding his cape, ready to trap his next victim. He smiled at me, beckoning me to the chair. I nudged John, who looked up.

"Your next!" I prompted. John took a few seconds, before getting to his feet, and hesitantly wandered over to chair. He looked uncharacteristically miserable, but I couldn’t understand about what!

The barber covered him with the cape, and John began to deliver some rather detailed instructions as to how he wanted his hair. He used his hands to pull his hair back, gripping the thick curls tightly. He looked different as the shape of his head began to appear from under the taut frizzy curls I was used to seeing.

There were no other customers in the shop, no doubt a source of relief to John, who was clearly most uncomfortable with the situation he was in. The barber was patient, asking "How short do you want it?" The question caught my attention in an instant.

John gestured towards me, "About as long as he has his!" came the reply.

I blushed as the barber looked me over, I was embarrassed that I had lapsed into scruffiness, it was almost as if I had let the barber down by missing a month. I decided there and then that I would get my own hair cut once the barber had trimmed John up.

The barber seemed content with John’s answer, and began combing the frizzy locks. The more he combed the wilder John’s hair became, growing in volume with every stroke, at least his curls were relaxing.

The barber reached for some clippers, causing John’s eyes to tighten in horror, but he said nothing, sitting awkwardly but upright in the barber chair. He slipped the comb under the hair at the nape of John’s neck. The comb lifted the six inch tresses in its teeth, and the barber ran the clipper teeth over the comb. The first cut was done, and there would be no going back now. The long lengths of hair fluttered down to the floor. I stared with some surprise at the amount of hair he’d lost.

The humming clippers didn’t rest, and a second tranche of curls was already resting on top of the first. More and more hair followed, before the barber changed his position slightly and as he stepped around the full effect of the clipping was on show for me to marvel at. The back of his head looked brilliant, hairs of half an inch or less neatly blending into his nape. A radical change from the frizz covering the parts of the head John could see. I leant forward realising that this was going to be more interesting than I had first thought.

John meanwhile, although still concerned about the buzzing around his head, seemed to be taking things more comfortably. More comfortably that is until the comb flicked up under his left ear and that hair went the way of the rest. I’m not sure he realised instantly what had happened, as the hair seemed not to fall down onto his shoulder for a long second or two. However, this was of little consequence for as the next swipe of the clippers sheared away the last of the long hair on that side of the head. John stared at his reflection, his mouth wide open. I chuckled inwardly, but watched as the hair around John’s right ear suffered the same humiliating fate, my silent chuckle burst out into laughter.

My laughter soon subsided, as John’s eyes started to redden, along with his face. This must be tough on him I reckoned, I would try to be sympathetic, which would be hard as John looked distinctly comical with his clipped back and sides, but still wearing the long hair pushed back over his head.

I willed the barber to cut the rest of the long hair off quickly, before anyone came in and saw how ridiculous my mate was looking. Mercifully the barber was adept, and yielding his scissors, lifted tress upon tress between his fingers and cut, leaving only an inch of hair behind. It took only a minute to give this boy the profile of a man, at last!

The barber paused momentarily to wipe his brow after his exertion. John took the opportunity to glance over at me. I gestured my thumbs up, and for a time he seemed reassured, that was until the barber reached for the clippers again.

The barber with great concentration began blending the inch long strands on top of John’s head into the half inch of hair on the back and sides. Then he took the comb and began tapering the back into the neck, cutting the end hairs away almost in their entirety.

John sat heroically still throughout the ordeal, flinching only when the barber reached for his cut throat razor to sharpen up his nape yet further.

All too soon for me, and not soon enough for John, the haircut was over. The barber stood back, and brusquely swept the accumulated mounds of hair from where it had gathered around John’s shoulders, by enveloping it within the cape, which he removed from around John’s neck, and then allowed it to spill into a pile on the shop floor.

Before removing the tissue he’d folded carefully over John’s collar, he lightly dusted the back of John’s neck with talcum powder, to ease the redness he’d caused. The barber lifted a hand mirror, and held it up behind John’s head, to allow him to inspect the cut from all angles.

John tilted his head, back and forth, taking in the full effect of the cut, with his fingers he tentatively felt the short tufts of hair. The barber stood patiently, for a few seconds more.

"Alright for you young man?" he enquired.

"Uh, well it’s shorter than I expected. I asked you to cut it the same length as my buddy Bill over there." John replied, slowly rising out of the chair and reaching for his wallet.

"Just wait," came the reply of the barber.

He gestured for me to get into his chair. Suddenly jealous of John’s new and smart image, I found myself with an uncontrollable urge to oblige, ruffling my hair with both hands, I crossed the shop and hopped into the chair. The barber secured his cape around me.

The clippers clicked on, and I felt the soothing vibrations at last. I glanced across at John now waiting for me, he caught my eye and grinned, I noted he was still running his fingers over the back of his neck. I couldn’t wait until I had the chance to do the same to myself, and with a barber as confident as this it wasn’t going to be a long wait.

I knew I’d never miss another monthly haircut again, and would also be surprised if John did either, now that my hair was as long as his. All in all, it was a great Summer!

---