Crazy Convos: Of Barbers and Guns

So I got a hair cut last week...

My head is skint! I like it that way!

And it looks like I will probably get it cut every 5 to 6 weeks.

My hair grows extra slow. And I am learning that the more frequently I go to the barber, the less time I have to be up in there.  I pick on Serenity23... She has that "good" hair, and seems to be getting hers cut every 3 weeks.. She has some puerto rican or cherokee ancestor a couple of hundred years back somewhere. My ancestors are some straight-up pure slaves, lol.

One thing about the barber shop... It's not my favorite place. In other words, I don't want to be up in there.There are too many people. And they were playing all that Drake and Nicki Minaj and rappers I have never heard of. They had the rap music going extra hard. EXTRA.



It was to the point that if someone would've jumped up and hollered, "We 'bout to go do a drive by shooting! Who wanna ride!?"

Why, I would've gladly raised and hand high in the air, and hollered, "I'll go! Ya'll just gimme a gun! LET'S ROLL!"

That's right. Hardcore gangsta music know it get all up in your head! I was ready! Let's go tare up something... or at least give me a mike so I can bust a rhyme. Either way, makes me no difference!

LOL. No. You know I'm scared.  I'm not a fan of guns. Too dangerous.

But I was sitting there thinking...

I sure wish someone would put on some Earth, Wind and Fire. Some "That's the Way of the World" would be real nice right about now. 



*lee swaying and singing along with EWF*

And my barber... Mr. Soho. He sure is a talkative fellow.

"Why you frowning all up, LadyLee! You making me nervous!"
"Are you asleep, LadyLee? You not sleep, are you?"

*silence*

No I wasn't asleep. Who could sleep with all that rap music blaring. And not with him talking so much. I don't care to have conversation. Cut my hair so I can go, dude.

Then the phone was ringing and he was talking to someone else for a moment. I heard him say "Legs, chops, ribs, steaks, sausage..."

I knew he wasn't talking to or about a woman. My goodness, I hope he wasn't.

He took another phone call while cutting my hair. This made me nervous. But he is the barber and knows how to handle a phone and cut hair at the same time.

When he finished the phone call, he started asking me questions.

"What would you do if you knew your barber had a gun?"

What the world? I didn't even answer the question. I was still trying to let it soak in.

"Let me ask that question another way," he said when I didn't answer. "What would you do if you knew your dentist had a gun?"

Hmm... my dentist with a gun.

I like my dentist, with his fine self. His name is Dr. Watson. He's a tall chocolate brother. And I like the hershey bar dark brothers. With the goatees. Oh yes. Oh yes sir indeed.

When he walks into the exam room he hollers "Wassup girl, let's do this!!!" just before he grabs the drill or whatever shiny dental instrument of his choosing.

He has good bedside manners, i.e., he makes me feel like we're getting ready to go to a New Edition concert instead of getting ready to fill some cavities.

And he drives a phat black Cadillac Escalade truck, sitting on 20s, all rimmed up and shiny.

No... it wouldn't surprise me if he had a gun.

"My dentist drives a nice big Cadillac truck," I said. "On nice rims. So if he had a gun in the waist of his navy blue scrubs, it wouldn't surprise me. As long as he hooks up my grill [teeth], I could care less!"

My barber laughed.

And then he asked his first question again. "What would you do if you knew your barber had a gun?"

I pondered this. We were in downtown ATL. We were in Midtown near my job, which is a little more buppie, but still hood. And there were a TON of brothers in there, and flat screens up in a glass front shop.
Let's just say if someone came in and tried to rob, it would've been a straight fire fight up in there.

"Wouldn't bother me one bit," I said. "You do what you gotta do."

"I have a gun," he said.

I didn't know what to say. I hope he wasn't trying to impress me. I am not a young chicken. I was most definitely old enough to be his Mama. And he's a redbone shorty. I like my men hershey bar dark.

"Okay," I said.

"And I'm excited," he said as he edged up my sides. "And you know why I'm excited?"

I didn't know. And I really didn't care. But I enlightened him. "Why are you excited, Soho?"

"Because hunting season starts tonight at midnight!! It's hunting season!"

*crickets*

Hunting season?

Wow.

I thought that dude was gonna start turning cartwheels.

It turns out hunting is his hobby. And he processes the meat and puts it up. And he sells some of it. That's what he was talking about on the phone when he was talking about "legs, chops, ribs, sausage..."

(Thank goodness he wasn't talking about a female. I think I would've passed out on the spot.)

I listened to this smiling young man with his tatted up arms as he talked about hunting season. He loves to hunt indeed. I could hear it all in his voice.

"Where do you hunt?" I asked. I imagined him taking a 2 or 3 hour drive to middle south Georgia, down to what we call "The Country".

"Fayette County," he said.

Fayette County. Down my sister's way, some 30 minutes away. It's straight woods down there. While driving down some of the backroads down there, I am always amazed by the plethora of trees and greenlands.  Wouldn't shock me one bit if Hansel and Gretel came skipping out of those thick woods. So I would think the forests hold plenty of deer.

And at that moment I was proud of him. You don't run into many young people who have such a hobby. And it was refreshing to hear him talk about it. That's because some of the "skills of old" have fallen by the wayside, fallen to all things electronic.

He reminds me of my brother, Milk and Cookies. Milk and Cookies collects medieval swords.

I have NO idea how he got into that. I remember him searching flea markets and going through various catalogs for ancient replicas of swords and daggers. I thought all of it was "plastic" toy items, but they are real metal and REALLY sharp, some as heavy as 10 to 15 pounds. I understand why the knights yelled and hollered when lifting their swords. That stuff is heavy!

So my little barber shop visit ended on a good note. There are still young folks who have old school hobbies.  There was a time when we had to hunt and fish.  It's easy enough to go into a store and get our meats, all cleaned an package. It wasn't always like that. And for some in other countries, it's still not like that.

And I'm not knocking the popular new techie hobbies. Nothing wrong with that. But his hunting hobby... I would've never guessed that.

When I left, I told him to be safe out there in the woods. It's seems a little scary sitting out in the forest in camoflauge all night waiting for deer, but hey, if he likes it, I LOVE it.

Ah yes...  I love it indeed.