I've had many hairstyles in my short life. It's been combed straight Beatles-style, it's been poofy and feathery and wild. Around the 5th or 6th grade, I got a flat-top. I remember telling the stylist that I wanted it to be just like Ivan Drago's (Rocky IV). I've had it kind of long and wavy and then Beatles-style again. And I've had a longer, combed-down version of a flat-top.
When we moved to Texas, the first several haircuts were horrible. I had a hard time finding a place that did it well. Most of the stylists at the various places I went to were very, very large, heavyset women. These were "discount" hair salons. Then one time I went to the mall to one of those ritzy places and the stylist must had just graduated or was still learning. She was completely clueless to the point that she had to get a fellow stylist to help her complete my haircut.
Eventually I found a place I liked and all the stylists there were fairly consistent. Then a couple of months ago, the shop came under new management and all my stylists left. I continued to go, but the stylists were erratic and my hair was beginning to suffer. The last stylist I had was an obese gay-Mexican with long fingernails that scratched my face. I knew that I needed to find another shop. That was sometime in December.
January came and life got busy and I didn't find time to get a haircut. I subconciously put it off for fear of getting a bad haircut. But now my hair was getting out of control and I really needed a haircut.
Last night in my restless sleep, I dreamed I was getting a haircut. At one point in my dream, I looked down at a book or magazine that was there in the shop and it said Bill Pittman. At first glance, I thougt it said Putnam, but then I realized it said Pittman. I woke up this morning and realized I was probably worrying a little too much about my shaggy hair. I was having dreams about getting a haircut for crying out loud!!
So today after work, circumstances worked out that I was able to leave early from work to get a haircut. Jill had told me about this place down the street from our home that had haircuts for half the price of what I was paying at the other place. Ben had his hair cut there and it looked nice. I drove there. There was a lady and a man ... both oriental. The man checked me in and proceeded to cut my hair.
I told him what I wanted. When he spoke, he had a thick accent. So I began to worry that my description of what I wanted would be lost in translation. When he cut a big swath down the middle of my hair with the clippers, I knew I was doomed. He paused after the first cut to verify that is what I wanted. I just nodded. I had a bad feeling about it. There was no point in protesting ... with the first swipe, the damage was irreversible. So I let him continue, resigning myself to living with another bad haircut for the next month or two.
He continued to whack and hack and chop. Globs of hair fell like wool from sheep. Anxiety kicked in and beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. My cell phone rings and it's Jill asking where I am. I tell her I'm getting a haircut. "Right now?" "Yes, as we speak." More sweat breaks from my skin and it is beginning to drip off the tip of my nose. A few more words are exchanged and she realizes I'm in no mood to converse. I hang up and the oriental continues to shave away.
But as he progresses through the haircut, I begin to see that he's actually doing a good job. I can see that it will be short, but it will look nice ... not unlike the flat-top I sported much of my mission. An ounce of confidence fills my soul.
While I sitting there, I begin to take in my surroundings. The TV is on broadcasting the latest polls in the presidential primaries. The shop is decorated with salon posters and random home ornaments. It smells of incense ... not sickly, but sweet. I notice a little boy off to the side playing video games. I assume he is their son. I check to see if my barber has a license. It's taped to the mirror. And then I spot a name on it ... Putnam! What?! No, it's not Putnam, it's
Bill Pittman!You can imagine the almost euphoric, dream-like feeling I had. That was the same name I dreamed about the previous night. I can't stop thinking about it. It is unusual and somewhat spooky. I feel like I am in a dream all over again, but I am not. It is real.
He is finished and my hair looks suprisingly good. I complement him on the job well done. I ask him his name. "Ron" comes back his reply. I reach for one of his business cards sitting in a stack. He gently takes it from my hand and writes "Rong" ... not Ron, but Rong as in "wrong." I ask him where he is from.
"Vietnam. You know someone from Vietnam?"
"Yes" I tell him. "I work with a lady named Dalena. She is from Vietnam."
"You like your haircut?"
"Yes" I reply again.
"You tell your friends about our shop OK?"
"I sure will." I take the business card and leave with a smile on my face.
I searched for this soundtrack for a long, long time and then finally gave up. Today, I resumed the search and found it at Amazon. Apparently only 3000 copies were made of this CD set. There was another release that only had "Where Eagles Dare" but it was a little more expensive at Amazon. The soundtrack should be here in 3-5 business days!
