A Cut Above

We are back from Macau. I would like to say things ended with a "bang," but it was more of a whimper. For all the fun that place is, it has a pretty lame nightlife. Maybe I just wasn't in the right headspace for cheesy entertainment, but that's all there was to choose from. In search of something fun, Adam and I headed over to The Sands. We made our way to the Starlight Lounge and took a seat in the small seating section. We found ourselves next to the largest video screen I had ever seen in my life. This thing was at least four stories tall and we were siting right in front of it. As AC was strongly backlit by a rotating cityscape scene, I could count every stray hair on his head through my squinted eyes. It was something like sitting on the sun, only with martinis.

After the blinding light show, we were treated to several all-girl cover bands who had seemed to have learned all their English songs phonetically. Our personal favorite was "Smooos Oferator" - a timeless classic.

By the time we got back to Hong Kong, I was downright shaggy. The last time I'd had my hair cut was San Francisco in February! AC kept saying he'd seen a place in Wan Chai that looked good. "A cut above Supercuts!" was how he described it. "Considering I would never get my hair cut at Supercuts, can we find a place that is 27 steps above?" I replied.

But when the day came, for some strange reason AC lead me to Lifestyles .. a place where you can get a massage that is named after a brand of condoms. I should have turned around right then. I accidentally turned into a similar doorway that had the word 'salon' on the window, but I was quickly given correction. There was no salon in my future. Why was AC so adamant I go to this place of all places? Were they giving him a cut of the profits or something?

I was motioned to the chair (a rolling type of chair you see in offices) while my bored-looking stylist plopped down his magazine and asked if I wanted a haircut. I'm not sure what else was on the menu, so I confirmed a haircut is all I'd need today. I looked at the mirror in front of me and saw a small clock radio - a nice touch to provide the customer some entertainment. The power cord, it appeared, was originally taped to the wall to keep it it out of the way. All the tape had since pulled off the wall to be replaced by more hair than I care to describe. It was like macrame. I looked around my chair - hair was everywhere. I hope no one is ever murdered in that shop, because analyzing the DNA evidence would be daunting.

Speaking of murder, back to the guy that cut my hair. "Two on the sides, five on the top," I explained. "Natural in the back!" I remembered, not wanting that stupid line on my neck.

"Don't cut the back?" he asked in confusion.

"No, cut the back ... number two ... just no line."

"Oh okay. Two on the sides, five on the top, no line in the back," he confirmed. As I've learned in Hong Kong, if they can repeat it back to you, they've got it. If they can't, keep trying. Especially when your hair is involved.

He started in with a two on the sides ... everything going according to plan. Two on the back, things still look good. The "long" section on the top of my head starting getting narrower and narrower. "Maybe I'm getting a faux-hawk ... I've always wanted to try that," I thought to myself. Narrower and narrower we went. "Maybe just long bangs?" I lied. I knew where this was headed. Off went the last patch leaving number two ... all over my head ... pun intended ... nothing left but very bald head.

Then a strange thing happened. He took off the two guard and put on the five guard and started going over the top. Not quite sure the point of that, given that five is longer than two, and the hair was long gone by that point. A lady walked up behind us and started speaking Chinese to the hair butcher. "My manager," he said to me, motioning with his head to the woman. Was there a slight pleading in his eyes? Did he know he just totally screwed up? Was he running the number five over my head because he was really that stupid, or was he trying to cover for his mistake?

In the end I didn't say anything. I paid, left, and tried to figure out a way to blame AC for what happened (is it working?). "It's just hair!" he finally exclaimed. "It will grow back!"

"Oh yeah? Well then why don't you also get this haircut out of sympathy for me. I know a guy who does a great job, whether you want it or not!" The awkward silence that ensued proved my point ... it's not just hair. It's a darn good thing I am so damn handsome that I can pull off this style. Otherwise I'd use all that extra DNA in the salon to my advantage.