So, Chicago. It's been a week and what a week it's been.
Really, how great is this city? Everything a boy could ever wish for, wrapped up in good old fashioned midwestern hospitality. Truly, it was hard to leave. Except for the family thing. Boy did that get old quickly.
The only good thing about taking this trip en famille is that none of them can say that I never gave it a go. So, when they announce the destination for next year I can back out gracefully without being accused of 'never wanting to do family stuff'. Paying it forward, folks, I'm paying it forward.
In a bid to get some free time/some me time I decided I'd go get a haircut. This is on the basis that a) I didn't get one before going to Chi-town and b) I'm off visiting next weekend and don't have time in the week for a cut either and I do want to look my best for my Irish Dutch friend.
The haircut decision was also based on the fact that I couldn't imagine either of the two other grown men in the party wanting to spend the morning 'dans le salon'.
I was wrong. My brother and my cousin's husband both decided that they too would like a haircut, and so the die was cast. Did I know anywhere to get a cut, was the question.
Well, I had spotted a coiffeur whilst speeding my way home from Boystown in a taxi at 4a.m. the previous morning (I'm not going to say where I'd been other than this - Condi Rice watch out, there's a new name at the middle east peace table, baby).
Anyway, I do digress. I'd passed this place which was all lit up with neon and looked like a classy barbers shop type joint.
The Barber Shop was called 'Good Head'. I'm not sure why I was drawn to it.
But hey, the joy of arriving outside the place with Brother and Cousin-in-law, and seeing their faces when they noticed the big neon sign?