Real Life On Hold - these are the adventures of California native Travis Emmel, as he takes time off from the rat race to travel and see the world.

Journal Entries


Friday, February 22, 2008

It's been said that you lose 5 minutes off your life for every cigarette smoked; I just lost the equivalent of about a 1000 packs of smokes from the tail end of my existence. You see, there are very few things more stressful to me than getting my hair cut by an unknown barber. Hence, with one or two exceptions, every single haircut in my life has been at the hands of two people and those other haircuts have always sucked – today was no different.

I should have known I was in trouble the second I walked into the place. This shop was old school, I mean really old school, like they still had leeches in the back. All of the barbers must have been active members of the AARP for at least the last 20 years. And here I come in looking like a goddamn hippy. Did I listen to my instincts and walk out at that point? No, of course not. After sitting down and mentioning that I only wanted a half inch or so taken off and the first guy refused to cut my hair, did I take that as a sign that I perhaps I should take my business elsewhere? Nope, let's do this thing.

So, there I sat, palms clenched and drenched as I watched inch after inch of hair fall helplessly around me as barber #2 took to my hair like Edward Scissorhands, only a little less emo. Oh sure, there were highlights, like when an older woman walked past and the guy pointed out that, "she sure looks good for an old lady - ass hasn't dropped yet." And just in case I missed the first time, he murmured a second, "that ass has not dropped." But mostly it was torturous experience and now I look like a freakin' pixie; another inch and I could have donated to Locks of Love. No, there will be no pictures, so please don't ask. My Padres hat will be a consistent prop in any of the pictures you do see of me over the coming weeks.

John, you've got your work cut out for you when I get back to San Diego.


  • At 5:00 PM, Blogger acl said…

    total bummer. your hair was the thing i liked about you second best in our few, brief meetings.

  • At 7:47 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    this entry makes you sound vain.

  • At 3:01 AM, Blogger Travis said…

    I hate to admit it, but I think it's a deep-rooted psychological response from my childhood. Growing up, I always used to hate getting haircuts; I never wanted anyone to notice that I'd had my hair cut. No idea where this phobia came from or why, but there must still be some remnants of it that I carry to this day...

  • At 10:15 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Back in the early 70s I worked on power line in New Mexico and all the helicopter pilots were Vietnam vets. Long hair was cool and they all had suffered with military hair cuts. One of them told me once when we were dicussing hair cuts, that when he got his hair cut the first thing he told the Barber when he sat down was that when he walked out of the shop he only wanted two people to know that he had just gotten his hair cut. And those people are you and me, but I want you to have your doubts.

  • At 11:27 PM, Blogger John said…

    I feel honored to have been mentioned.



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