Ok, so I have been flirting with a company about a Caribbean financial services job for six months. Now they want to fly me to Antigua for an interview with the future boss. A new haircut was in order. So the Adamo crew went in search of a barber or salon in St. Georges, Grenada. (more on the crossing from Tobago and other happenings in Grenada later. By the way, this could be our new favorite island. It’s starting to rival Anguilla. We love it here.)
We took the dinghy to the wharf on the Carenage to get to town from our lagoon anchorage. A local from shore started hollering at us that we would be better off tying up around the corner. When we pulled up to the sea wall, he introduced himself as “Herman, the man with the plan”. Seems like we picked up a guide for the afternoon.
We asked him about the haircut. He said he had the place to go. We followed him through main streets, then back alleys. We ended up in a barbershop that was brimming over with people. This was Friday evening and Saturday was a national holiday celebrating Independence Day. I guess everyone wanted to look good for their day off. Herman had no patience. He had us shuffling out of the packed shop before we could say “how long is the wait?” Through some more alleys, and we ended up in a second story barbershop also bustling-over with people, but the targeted stylist was free. So after a quick break we were up next.
Calvin introduced himself as I rotated to sit in the barber’s seat. I asked him if he knew how to cut straight hair. All of the other patrons were black. I don’t know much about cutting hair, but I do know that there is discernible difference between cutting tight curly hair verses flowing, straight blond hair. “Oh yes, that’s why Herman brought you here” he said.
With that, he inquired what kind of hairstyle I was looking for.
“#4 on the sides and longer on top.”
Calvin pulled out a #4 and attached it to his hair clippers. Then he started combing my hair with it from the top of my head to the ends. My hair was getting thinner but not any shorter. Sue and Phil where seated right next to me. As Kelvin turned the chair I could see their incredulous eyes looking in wonderment. I could read Sue’s thoughts: “you’re screwed.” Then she cracked a smile as she pulled out the camera to document the event. I had a few choice words running silently through my mind as well.
I turned to Calvin and asked: “are you planning to go against the grain soon?”
“Oh, yes.” He swiveled the clippers around and began shearing off the thinned straggles he had created on the sides of my head. “Well thank God” I thought, “a buzz is better than looking like I have 80 year-old thin, stringy hair” as I visualized the job offer vaporizing before my eyes.
When the sides where closely sheered, all that was left to do was to tame the mop on the top of my head. As Calvin fumbled with the five-inch long hair, I could see in the mirror he had no idea of what do to with that mane. He grasped a chunk from the middle and took the scissors to it and created a prefect reverse Mohawk. Sue’s eyes widened as I sank in the chair.
“I can still buzz the top,” the little voice in my head was saying. Then, miraculously, Calvin awkwardly bunched up the sides and made it match up with the top and the sides. I could sense his relief as he said: “how’s that?”
“Good” I said.
Then he came around with the clippers to clean up the edges. I should have jumped out of the chair, but social convention kept me seated. He trimmed the back of my neck, then brought the sadistic instrument around to the front and started to trim the front side of my sideburns . . . starting at my temple! He shaved my hairline back so that the end result was a thin sideburn leading down to my beard. Definitely an island-do.
Then he realized: what should we do with the beard? “Should I trim the beard as well.”
“Oh no, I can take care of that.” I countered quickly.
As I looked into the mirror, I wondered what will it look like, when the front side of my stubbly sideburns grow back in. Will my potential future boss stare at them wondering is that usually what his hair usually looks like, or will he understand: “Ah, he got the island do. Poor boy.”
Meanwhile, Phil was not dissuaded. “I’m next. I want the same style as my dad: short on the side and long on top” he said as he hopped in the chair.
Calvin picked up his shears and got to work. Apparently he was tired of dealing with long straight hair. So he started with the #4 right in the middle of Phil’s forehead and pushed the clippers to the top if his head. I guess that is what I get for teaching him how to go against the grain. He looked up and said: “Did you say long on top?”
Phil looked like a marine recruit ready for boot camp. Calvin then took a razorblade and trimmed his hairline to remove his widow’s peak and match his sideburns to mine. Yep, we are styling . . . Grenada style.
Post Script: Sue opted against having her hair done.
