I had the barber shave my head the other day. It was a good deal. For 30 pesos I read the paper while he scalped me, messaged my bean with oil, and powdered it like a baby´s bottom. I was out of there in twenty minutes feeling sleaker than a stealth bomber. Wind whistled off my dome as I cut thrue the air, certaintly making better time than I did before I met the blade. I imagine I reached home seconds earlier than what it took me getting to the Barber of Durango. Time is money.
Next day, I get “Te quedaste dormido en el caballito (you fell asleep on the horsey)” from everyone and their sister. I asked the good Fidencio (my boss and author of “Fridays are mine” fame) what that was all about. He says it is what you say to a survivor of a severe haircut. It refers to the little play ponies they have in the children´s barber shops. You sit your kid on one, hoping he´s distracted by the aquine, while he gets buzzed. “Imagine if he falls asleep on one,” Fidencio explained, “a kid could end up looking like you.” Funny man.
In Colombia folks would say, “te cayiste del bus (you fell off the bus)” if you got a tragic trim. Although I knew the colombians were referring to a bad haircut, I never did get the relationship between the hatchet job and tumbling off of public transport, nor did I think to ask a confidant. Our research team is looking into it.
I got a shoe shine this week, too. Abdicated my weekly shining habit to an elderly man in the Plaza de Armas who, fifteen minutes and 15 pesos later, named every state in the U.S. (23) that he had picked fruit or vegetables over his 23 year carreer as a bracero. He has seen more U.S. states than Mexican (4). He shines shoes in retirement. Does a right fine job, too. Puts my shine to shame.
Más piel que pelo,