I got my first shave and a haircut. Yes, the barber, Sam, used a straight razor. He missed a spot on my chin, but I don't think anybody is perfect the first time they shave somebody's face. The barber in many different styles of art is such an important part of society. In Rossini's Barber of Seville, he is the guy that sets up Rosina and the Count Almaviva (disguised as Lindoro so he can gain entrance into Dr. Bartolo's house). The Barber of Fleet Street, Sweeney Todd, kills people and chops them up to put meat into the meatpies. Ice Cube plays a barber who owns a barbershop in Chicago in the movie The Barbershop, where men gather to have lively discussion.
My barbershop might have lively discussion, but unfortunately I do not get to partake in the discussion because I don't speak Vietnamese. For me, this ritual of going to the barber is a peaceful one. I sit back and listen to the jabber of Vietnamese while watching whatever is on TV in the mirror. Today, they were watching Top Gear. During football season, its on ESPN or the football game and I can pick out words like "over-under", "Du Me!", and "touch down". It would be an interesting opera to write about my experience at the barbershop. There would be my barber who doesn't speak English, the tranny doing hair 2 seats down from me. The cholos coming in for their fade speaking Spanglish, the kid crying and his mother, the guy at the cash register who does speaks English and talks to me about football, and the woman shopkeeper who yells at everyone in Vietnamese. There would have to be a scene outside where the ghetto black guys come past peddling drugs, the other Vietnamese barbers taking a smoke break, and of course the scenery in the shop displaying signs in bad grammar about the minimum credit card purchase or the deal on getting a pedicure.
only in the ghetttttooo
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