Rea and I went to Bishop’s Barber Shop on Hawthorne (an extremely trendy Portland neighborhood) because I was due for a haircut. I love going to Bishops usually, because they are super friendly and they give you free beer. However, Bishops on Hawthorne needs a little help in the customer service department.
When we walked through the door, there was a young man standing behind the counter who seemed to believe that he is too awesome to even exist. Given his skinny jeans, dirty, tight white T-shirt, young Elvis hair (complete with the curl on top) and large gauge ear-piercings; he was the picture of Hawthorne and therefore Rea and I were clearly no match for his avert coolness.
Me: “Good afternoon, ladies…”
Rea: “Have you noticed how cool I am…?”
Me: “Sorry, my awesomeness makes it impossible for me to be friendly…”
Rea: “I would offer you a beer, but I’m too busy standing here being trendy and amazing.”
Me: “Oh hi, sorry I didn’t notice you walk in. These giant holes in my earlobes make it difficult for me to acknowledge your existence.”
We would have continued this amazing banter had we not looked up in time to notice that the trendy young man was totally staring at us from behind the counter. An extremely awkward length of time passed as we stared back at him in silence.
Mr. Cool mumbled: “…ummm, so yeah, I didn’t hear your answer…”
Rea and I looked at each other, before I said: “Ummm…what was the question?”
Mr. Cool sighed: “Haircut?”
Me: “Yes, I would like to get a haircut.” (I felt the need to restate his question as
an acknowledgement to his lack of a complete sentence.)
Mr. Cool: “Drink?”
Me: “No thanks, we’re good.”
Mr. Cool: “K.”
My hairstylist walked over to fetch me a couple of minutes later. She had green hair.
I looked at Rea with fear in my eyes.
Rea whispered: “It’s Hawthorne.”
I whispered back: “Maybe we should got to Great Clips next time. In the suburbs…”
Rea: “Nah, we’re too cool for that.”