For years, I’ve gone back to Back Alley for my haircuts and it’s become a sort of monthly Sunday ritual. You see, the place is a solid spot. It has a great selection of books, they serve beer and coffee, their playlist is always fire, and it reminds me of the man-cave I’ve always dreamt of owning for myself.
It’s a whole experience, from the wait, to the haircut itself, to the massage, to the beer you enjoy right after. And then, there’re the conversations I would have with my suki barber JR. I’m not much of a small-talker. I usually prefer the silence and the sound of hair being snipped off my head, but I do enjoy the occasional banter and the unanticipated life lessons:
JR: Dami mo nang puting buhok Kevs ah.
Me: Onga, ganun talaga sa pamilya namin. Nakakatakot nga eh.
JR: Ano ka ba. Wag kang matakot. Buhok lang ‘yan.
