I got a haircut the other day at Angel’s Barbershop, a block up from my place. The guy was Cuban[1], I think, and he was so meticulous. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone pay so much attention to the back and sides of my head. The cost? $10. These guys are old-world craftsmen. I’m so lucky to have them so close by, even if they don’t seem to speak much English.
Today I walked around the East Village and across the Williamsburg Bridge. The best part was along Avenue A where I came across a $.50 Care Bears toy dispenser. For some reason I thought I’d get one. I told myself if I got the green Good Luck Bear, that my lucky streak will continue. Apparently I’m in some sort of zone. Moments before that, I saw this and knew that my grandmother was still with me.
I also debated buying a cheap Les Paul copy, saw a stuffed dog, avoided the third rail, took more trashy pictures, received another message from the universe, visited a Japanese toy shop, had flashbacks to Superman II, witnessed firsthand the encroachment of commerce on religion, heard the rock under Radio City, and saw Elmo.
Another leisurely weekend in the city.
1.) I have nothing to base this on other than instinct. I have a pretty good sense for accents and dialects – for example I had initially thought that the two German guys I work with were Dutch; I later discovered that they grew up along the Dutch/German border. So I was very close!
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