Cruising toward a makeover by Manny

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We were so pleased when Will and Alice Helm invited us to cruise with them down the Pacific coast of Mexico and Central America. The four of us enjoyed great social chemistry, mainly because the Helms possessed exceptional interpersonal skills. Both Will and Alice were fun-loving, witty, insightful, informed, and polite - without any sort of grating "gotcha" or "one-up" tendencies, like so many people have these days. They also relished spirited discussions and were competitive in sports and games. Plus, they were good listeners, always looking you in the eye and hanging on to every word you were saying. On top of all this, the Helms were an attractive couple that dressed well (elegant, not vulgar) and could choose the best whiskies and wines.

My only reticence in vacationing with the Helms was the financial outlay. They were big spenders, but not in a flashy way. Old money types that oozed good manners and taste. But, I considered it an investment….hopefully improving my own social skills and tastes by observing theirs.

When we met them at the port, the Helms were dressed to a tee, as if they had stepped out of an upscale magazine on yachting or the lives of the rich and famous. Alice’s nautical-themed Hermes scarf certainly cost more than the cruise itself!

Will sported a bit of a nautical theme and looked trim in his perfectly tailored clothes. His thick, dark locks were swept back with lustrous waves flowing down the back into a trendy, blunt-cut bob. To add to the flair, he sported retro-70s mutton-chop burns; they enhanced the youthfulness of his appearance, despite his middling years. His blue eyes sparkled and white teeth dazzled.

I had always admired the combo of dark brown hair with the clearest blue of eyes, and Will Helm’s were the best of examples.

As we met, Will clapped an affectionate bear hug around me while Alice exchanged cheek smooches with my wife.

"So glad you could join us! It would have been a bit dull, just Alice and me, cooped up in a suite for 18 days," Will oozed as he gripped both my arms while he gave me the once-over. "It’s so good to see you, Marty!"

I cringed a bit, hoping he wasn’t noticing the Kirkland brand on my shirt or wondering whether I paid $15 for my simple crewcut at the neighborhood barber shop.

"You two are such fun," Alice chimed in. "I know we’ll have a wonderful time together. "Susan, I need an ally! Will is determined to go deep-sea fishing near Cabo San Lucas, and I am insisting on a day trip in Guatemala so that we can get wonderful handicrafts in Antigua. The fabrics they produce!"

"I agree 100%. We go fishing with the boys in Mexico and they come shopping with us in Guatemala," Susan chirped cheerfully.

The smooth start to our vacation quickly unraveled as we headed straight into a storm, heading south from San Diego. While sipping cocktails by the pool, the sky suddenly darkened and the wind picked up. Then a gale surge ripped over the deck with total fury. The cruise staff scurried about, trying to close umbrellas which had already begun to fly about.

Will’s coif quickly disintegrated into what looked more like a rats’ nest as we struggled to gather up our things and get inside.

Once we were safe inside, Alice squealed, "Honey, your hair! It looks like.…oh, here’s a brush."

She didn’t have to add ‘go take care of it’ because that went without saying.

I had to pee, so I accompanied Will to the men’s room.

He grumbled, "Alice is fond of these hairstyles that are hard to maintain. Look at you, by contrast. We just escaped a wind tunnel and your hair is none the worse for it."

I grinned and rubbed my brush. I had thick hair with enough of a pile to showcase the lovely chestnut color.

"Maybe we can find a barber in our first Mexican port," I chuckled. "Tell Alice you want a cultural experience…a haircut at a local shop."

Will studied himself in the mirror he brushed his long locks back, behind his ears. He definitely looked like a salon junkie - his locks pampered with professional washes, crème rinses and styling gels.

Although Will had undeniably great hair, the bob was way too effeminate for my taste. Fortunately, with his panache, he pulled things off, avoiding a pretty boy image. On me, that chin-length bob would look ridiculous!

"I hope I pass the Alice-hair-inspection," he commented in a playful tone. "Yes, a Mexican barber might be just the antidote for my perpetual hair problem. And, I did take Spanish in high school, so I believe I could get my message across to him. ‘Cortar.’ "Poco.’ A few words should be enough."

Then, Will fashioned two of his fingers into a pair of imaginary shears and snipped at the air around his head, "Some words, combined with a few gestures! Voila, I’ll emerge a new man…."

"Or you could point to me," I added. "That is, if you want to go for a very short and tidy length."

"Alice would kill me if I got a crewcut," Will laughed. "But, she would get over the shock quickly enough. Alice is a good sport."

I suggested, "If she complains, tell her she can buy as many handicrafts as she wants in Antigua! And promise her you won’t complain at all even if it’s the tenth church she drags you into…."

"The handicrafts, sure! But all those ornate churches? I’m dreading even one. Alice babbling away about ‘a fine specimen of baroque…’ I suppose, if the barber were to give me a surprise baldy cut, through some sort of miscommunication, I’d have to do some penance with Alice," Will said with a sparkle in his eye.

He straightened his bob one more time and made a slight grimace. I was definitely getting the impression he was not a fan of the bob!

"What do you say we rent some jet-skis tomorrow? We’ll have all day in port," Will suggested, suddenly changing the topic.

"Sure," I replied. "But, do you need some sort of license to ride one?"

"Not in a place like Mexico is my guess! In any event, I have one and you can ride with me, doubled up…" Will replied.

Then, he chuckled as he added, "….clutching me tightly around the waist, my locks flapping in your face!"

Will was so suave…so confident…so bold and adventurous.

"Shoot! People will think we’re a couple!" I laughed.

"I want my own jet-ski!" I insisted as we rejoined the ladies.

"Ah, handsome as ever," Alice gushed upon seeing her husband all brushed and tidy.

At dinner that evening, Will raised the issue of his hair. He entered into the subject lightly, throwing me a bit under the bus.

"You know, as I was trying to get my rats’ nest tamed after we fled that downpour, Marty suggested I visit a Mexican barber shop tomorrow. For a cultural experience, and, uh, to get a more practical length and look. The way that new gal left me with this perky bob, lopped off bluntly, it’s just a bit awkward, don’t you think, honey?" Will asked casually.

"Well, it’s certainly a bit different than your normal style," Alice commented. "But changes are good, I think."

"Excellent, I’m in for another change," Will grinned as he gave me a quick wink. "Marty and I can spend the morning together scouting out the town while you ladies go shopping. In the afternoon, the four of us can jet-ski."

Alice looked skeptical, but my wife chimed in, "I’d like that!"

"We’ll blow a wad in the jewelry shops," Alice laughed, endorsing the plan.

The next morning, Will was eager to get off the ship and explore the place. He didn’t mention the barber shop, but I knew that was on his mind. The way he kept running his fingers through his hair and glancing at his reflection in mirrors and shop windows….

We hadn’t even gotten to the main square when I spotted a VERY modest, humble store-front barber shop. Really, it was more like an open garage with two barber chairs facing a simple wall mirror and a few kitchen chairs scattered behind them as a makeshift waiting area. Two men were sitting outside, chatting and smoking. Their white tunics established their professional identity.

"There’s a place," I murmured, pointing to the crude shop across the street.

Will almost froze in his tracks and emitting a sputter that was half laugh, half gasp.

"Marty! I’m not sure I’m ready for that sort of authentic local experience. Maybe there’s some more upscale place on the main square. You know, the type businessmen and wealthy tourists use," he demurred.

Will strode forward quickly.

I decided to push his buttons a bit more by lagging behind.

"We could just ask how much a haircut costs and if they’re open all day," I suggested.

"Right, we can say all of that with practically no Spanish?!" Will scoffed.

"We might not find another place," I countered.

If YOU want a haircut, Marty, then fine. We can go over there right now!" he said in a kidding, but firm tone.

And with that, the unfolding of Will’s dramatic makeover began!

I crossed the street and he straggled behind me, almost unwillingly.

The two barbers stood as we approached and snuffed out their cigarettes.

"We’ve got to go through with this now that the barbers are ready to work. Look, most of the cigarettes they just put out were unsmoked," I noted, glancing at the sidewalk.

Then, I pointed to my hair and said, in English, "How much? Dollars?"

The man smiled, and replied holding up two fingers, "Dos dolares. DOS!" He repeated it loudly, hoping that would make me understand better.

"Two bucks? For a haircut?!" Will sputtered.

I strode on in, and the barbers corralled Will into accompanying the group.

The barber who had given the price pointed to the further chair; the other barber indicated that Will should sit in the chair near the sidewalk.

"Hey, help me out here, buddy! I’m just here to watch the action," Will said to me, trying to sound jovial.

"Come on! We’re here because of you, not me! I don’t even need a haircut," I insisted. "You can afford two dollars. Plus, that saucy bob of yours needs a makeover."

Will smiled, unwillingly. He knew it was true.

"So you’ll help with the Alice-fallout, if it comes to that?" he asked rhetorically as he moved toward the barber chair.

We both sat and the capes were snapped open simultaneously.

As his barber was fastening the cape securely in place with the big metal clip, Will reached into his memory banks for some high school Spanish.

"Cortar," he said. "Hey, I remembered something from 10th grade!"

Then, Will quickly added, "Or, is it corto?"

The barber smiled broadly. "Si, si! Cortar corto!"

"Ha, both words were right!" Will exclaimed. "I’m a genius!"

Will looked at the barber and repeated again, "Cortar corto!"

"Si, bien cortito, como tu amigo. Una rapada," the barber replied.

"Hey, he just called me his ‘amigo’. That definitely means friend," Will babbled on, turning toward me and unaware that the barber now had a big set of clippers in his hands.

In a flash, the barber gripped his head, wrenched it forward, and forced Will into a penitent bow.

I heard the shriek of the clippers hitting his hair accompanied by an almost simultaneous gasp from my buddy.

"Holy Moses!" Will grunted, as he was still forced keep his head bowed. "He’s gone berserk with clippers. They just went all the way up the back of my head, tight to the scalp!"

"Bye-bye snappy bob!" I teased. "You won’t miss it."

The barber took the clippers, again, up the back of Will’s head. I watched in the mirror as sheaves of his lovely hair fell away. Large shanks rested on his shoulder before either continuing their trip down the back of the chair to the barber’s feet or sliding down the front of the cape into Will’s lap.

"Vas aparecer hombre! Hombre macho!" the barber declared, as he wrenched Will’s head to the side.

Poor Will! He was allowed to sit up straight and watch his continuing transformation from pretty playboy to recruit….

The barber quickly decimated the mutton-chop. With each drive of the clippers, more of Will’s glossy hair fell to the cape.

"It’s like I’m being inducted into the army," Will said in a quaky, pouty voice.

"Think about how much more practical a crewcut will be when we’re jet-skiing, scuba diving and deep sea fishing," I remarked.

"You’ve got a point there, Marty," Will replied, more encouraged about what was happening to him.

Then, he added, "The truth of the matter is that I was getting tired of long hair and all the care it entails. Every morning, struggling with the dryer. Then, at the salon, endless suggestions about highlights and body waves or straighteners. It’s a racket!"

"And it took this cruise for you to discover the $2 baldy cut!" I laughed.

As if he’d understood what I’d said, the barber took the clippers and ran them down the top of Will’s head. The last remaining length was dispatched to the cape and floor. He was getting clipped down to a single, short length all over.

"Muy corto! Una rapada, dos dolares!" the barber said as he rubbed Will’s clipped pelt in a friendly, playful way.

Will blushed and force a lame smile as a response to the barber’s cheerful enthusiasm.

Then, the barber reached into the caldron of cut hair in Will’s lap and grabbed a mass, "No para hombres! No para ti!"

He tossed the shimmering locks to the floor to emphasize his point that Will should not sport such girly hair.

Will grinned bashfully, "No, no mas!"

Both barbers went all over our heads with the clippers for a final time, severing any stray strands that protruded.

The truth was I had been so engrossed with Will’s transformation that I had scarcely paid attention to my own haircut. Yikes! I went from a classic crewcut to a baldy cut, the type my father used to inflict on me in the garage at the start of summer!

"Te gusta?" my barber asked.

What else could I say, but, "Si."

I was first out of the chair. The amount of hair on the floor around the Will’s chair was staggering. Piles of it!! I loved seeing so much of it lying about aimlessly, waiting for the dustpan and broom.

"You’re looking good, Buddy," I said. "Short and simple."

"There’s going to be hell to pay for this," Will eked out.

"But do you like it?" I asked as his barber began to carefully withdraw the hair laden cape.

Will grinned sheepishly. "Sort of."

I stroked his pelt playfully, like the barber had.

"A sweet baldy cut for you!" I teased.

"And you," Will reminded me.

The barber pointed to the two of us and said, "80 pesos o 4 dolares â€" por los dos."

Then he pointed to the chart of prices hanging on the wall with his finger resting on the word ‘rapada’.

There were many different names and numbers….and there, at the bottom of the list, was ‘rapada’ with ‘40’ next to it. The cheapest haircut, a butch! Only $2!!

I handed the barber a $5 bill and motioned for him to keep the change.

"Look, Will! It seems like when we committed to the $2 haircuts, the price was for simple butch cuts," I said.

Will who now was standing, staggered over to the chart as he felt his clipped head.

"Gee, you’re so right! It’s a good thing we didn’t know what we were getting into….I would NEVER had even contemplated a butch cut," Will said. "But, you know, I’m beginning to like it! The minimalist look and feel."

Will walked over to the mirror and examined his clipped head in the mirror.

"What do you think? Really?!" he asked me.

"Your eyes are so blue…and such thick, dramatic brows. I mean without all that distracting hair, one can see that your facial features are perf…" I broke off the sentence, feeling embarrassed to be gushing over his looks like that.

But, Will, beamed amid the praise, seeming to want it to continue.

"Come on, Marty," he said, putting his arm through mine. "You can continue your ode to how handsome you find me as we look for our next stop. Tee shirts! I want us sporting matching tee-shirts. With our matching baldy cuts and matching tee shirts, we’ll look like twins!"

"Meaning, you find me just as handsome as I find you…." I murmured while we left the store.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the shop.

The barber held up a dustpan full of Will’s decimated bob. "Oiga! Nunca mas asi! Rapadas para los dos!"

Will flashed a thumbs up. "Si! Rapadas!"

"What a great start to the cruise! This is my new look - the simple butch cut is here to stay! And, I can just imagine the two of us, back in the US, taking the clippers to each other in the garage," Will said with enthusiasm in his voice.

"I’d like that," I replied.

Then, he fondled my pelt slowly and tenderly. "Thanks, Buddy, for making this happen. What do you say we go take a quick jet-ski spin to get a lay of place, before we go out with the ladies in the afternoon? I want you clinging closely to my torso’s muscular six pack."

"You mean to your flabby love handles…" I laughed, and then gave him a vigorous Dutch rub.

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