Today I went to Calle Amazonas and had my hair trimmed.
It was a... unique experience.
"Honey, can I help you?" The Spanish question was asked...
A man in tight fitting jeans and shirt with over-jelled hair stuck out one hip to the side. I smirked to myself.
How is it that there are so many worldwide standards? Why is it that so many male stylists are gay? How does this come about? Why do Ecuadorians and Americans equally eat popcorn while watching a movie?
Anyhow. My hair was plagued by split ends. He trimmed it. In TEN MINUTES. I have never had my hair cut in less than 40 minutes.
The cut looks fine. A little block-ish, but I suppose that's what you get when you pay $2.50. I tipped $0.50. And felt pretty good about that.
He paused during the cut to greet some people walking by on the street. He returned a bit happier. "Those are my gay friends," he said. He paused, trimmed a bit of hair, and announced "I'm gay."
"I never imagined," I replied. The entire staff of the salon burst into laughter.
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