DelBloggolo: ON THE CUTTING EDGE

Recently I tried out a new barber. The old barber I had was just down the road, and I have been going to the shop itself for over 30 years off and on. I thought I’d try a new one for a change of pace, and maybe like the results.

The new barber Attila, is a man in his 40’s, tall and slightly over-weight, but right off the boat from somewhere in the Serbian Empire, with a heavy accent, and a European flair when he cuts. What’s a European flair you ask? His arms go into an exaggerated motion as he waves that scissor around, menacing both life and limb as he chops his way to the final neck shave.

His technique for brushing you is to smack the brush against your head then pound it until all the hair stand up, where he then blows them off with his lips.

Ear hair is another story. Using an electric razor, he grinds the machine into your head until he reaches hair, twisting and pushing and pressing the razor as it totally reforms the shape of your ears. If it comes out of your other ear, you know he went too far!

The guy ahead of me

Neck hair? Ha, he just applies the electric razor until it manages to get under the skin, being the only barber to cut hair at the roots, under the skin.

Then the most terrifying moment comes. He reaches into the top drawer, and extracts a strait-edge razor, as I silently prayer, not sure if this will be my last haircut or my first scalping.

When the whole process is over, I pay the man and give him a generous tip for sparing my life, as he asks: “Do you have my business card?” “No!” I answer.

Reaching for a business card on the counter he says: “When you come three times, I punch the card each time and you get a half-priced haircut. Tell your friends too. You look very nice-tell them, great haircut, half-price 4^th haircut and good price!

Leaving I stopped at the drugstore for some painkiller and the druggist says, “Nice haircut, but did somebody steal your money, you look like you didn’t give it up without a fight!

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A man walked in to a Barber Shop for his regular haircut. As he snips away, the barber asks: "What's up?"

The man proceeds to explain he's taking a vacation to Rome. "ROME?!" says the barber, "Why would you want to go there? It's a crowded dirty city full of Mafioso! You'd be crazy to go to Rome! So how ya getting there?" "We're taking TWA" the man replies.

"TWA?!" yells the barber. "They're a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly and they're always late! So where you staying in Rome?" The man says "We'll be at the downtown International Marriot." "That DUMP?!" says the barber. "That's the worst hotel in the city! The rooms are small, the service is surly and slow and they're overpriced! So whatcha doing when you get there?" The man says "We're going to go see the Vatican and hope to see the Pope."

"HA! That's rich!" laughs the barber. "You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on THIS trip. You're going to need it!"

A month later, the man comes in for his regular haircut.

The barber says, "Well, how did that trip to Rome turn out? Bet TWA gave you the worst flight of your life!" "No, quite the opposite" explained the man. "Not only were we on time in one of their brand new planes, but it was full and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a beautiful 28 year old flight attendant who waited on me hand and foot!"

"Hmmm," says the barber , "Well, I bet the hotel was just like I described."

"No, quite the opposite! They just finished a $25 million remodeling. Its the finest hotel in Rome, now. They were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the Presidential suite for no extra charge!"

"Well," the barber mumbles, "I KNOW you didn't get to see the Pope!"

"Actually, we were quite lucky. As we toured the Vatican, a Swiss guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained the Pope likes to personally meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into this private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, after 5 minutes the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand. I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me."

Impressed, the barber pleads, "Tell me, please! What did he say?"

"He just said: Where did you get that awful haircut?'"