The Barber of the Bullhorn

I spent Saturday at our little Paradise by the Sea.  Months ago, I had signed up to judge two rounds of the American Mock Trial Association's Collegiate Tournament, in which this year the teams competed via Zoom.  Each of the rounds last two and one half hours to three hours.  Rather than spend the entire day and half the evening in our "Zoom Room" (back bedroom" in Middlesex where I would have spent most of my time engaged in a distracting knife fight with claustrophobia, I headed to Lake Como.  I set up shop in our kitchen, which thanks to the incredible craftsmanship of John Case is now large enough for a person to spend six-plus hours in during a single day without contemplating sampling the offerings of the cutlery drawer.  

Having last gottten my hair cut at the end of January (I wanted to look spiffy for my first day at my new job), I headed over to Pat's Barber Shop in time to put my name on his list when he opened his doors at 7:30 am.  He is not only a great barber but he and Mary Lou adhere completely to COVID-19 protocols, which limits the number of customers in the shop simultaneously and requires everyone inside the shop's four walls (barber and customer alike) to wear a mask.  Now, when you go to Pat's, you put your name and phone number on the sign-up list outside his front door.  As he works his way down the list, he crosses off one name and reaches out to the next one.  Apparently, getting a haircut on the first day of Spring was not a terribly original idea.  I was the eighth person to sign my name to the list.  A testament to just how good Pat and Mary Lou are at what they do.  

I was sitting in my car reading a book when, just about 8 am, Pat popped his head out to check his list and, after looking down to see whose name was next, used a bullhorn a customer had given him (complete with a siren sound effect!) to call out "Michael!  Michael!"  I could not help but laugh.  Not simply because it immediately made me think of Seinfeld and the Chinese restaurant episode when the host called out "Cartwright! Cartwright!" when a woman called the restaurant asking to speak to George Costanza but also because he seemed to be having the time of his life using it.  So much so that I suspect even when COVID-19 is finally in the rear-view mirror and customers can wait our turn inside his shop's four walls as opposed to in our own vehicles, he will find a way to use it.  

-AK