You're Kidding, Right? | Teen Ink

You're Kidding, Right?

July 26, 2015
By August_Songs BRONZE, Austin, Texas
August_Songs BRONZE, Austin, Texas
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I was a San Fran Bay Area kid, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that I was a bleeding-heart liberal, and had been since before I knew what a liberal was. When I moved to Texas, around a year before, I’d thought that was as bad as it would get. Visiting New England would be a safe experience in comparison.


I had not predicted north New Hampshire.


It was a Tuesday in July, and I was in dire need of a hair cut, so I looked away from the NRA and Romney For The Win! stickers plastered across the barber shop entrance and reached for the door knob. And it was then, opening the door, that it really hit me what I would be going through in this barber shop for the sake of a trim.


I was the only person under 75 in the room. There were at least four full-size American flags flying from different spots in the room, seemingly planned to be in the most awkward places possible, and countless small ones stuffed into cubbies or attached to pinwheels, which was even more awkward, but this was ‘safe’ New England, so so far I was fine. But there was more, in the form of statues of human-like bears getting their teeth pulled, coupled with freaky tribal masks and an honest-to-God stuffed moose head mounted on the wall.


A tip for any similarly urban, left-wing teenager in rural New England looking for a hair cut— it’s not as liberal as you think. Unless it’s a desperate situation, your haircut can wait.


But I was desperate. And my eyes had already suffered, so I might as well stay. I walked over to pick up a newspaper and saw the front-page story. Ah, of course. It was quiet in this region, so there was something about building permits in the middle of front page. Off to the side, there was a column reminding everyone about the New Hampshire Moose Hunting Permit Lottery. (Under 100 lucky people will receive moose-hunting permits during the lottery later this week! Radio coverage is available in multiple stations across north New Hampshire.) Page 7 featured an obituary for a Maine man who…. what? He died because his head exploded. Why? He decided to launch a firework off of the top of his head on Independence Day.


I look through the newspaper and determine that it is not sarcastic and that, therefore, the articles are not a joke.
But surely, the three large boxes sitting on the other side of the shop, filled to the top with poster board, were a joke! I mean, there’s basically no way that this couldn't be ironic. For on the boards were printed:


DONALD TRUMP for President!


Fire Everyone Else!


But then a balding white guy walked into the shop and turned to the barber.. “Hey! Arthur! Ah, you finally got the posters in! Can I take one?” And, not waiting for a reply he picked two up and continued, to affirmative murmurs and nods around the shop, “Trump can really get the job done, you know? People don't want to admit it, but he can really do it!” Arthur nods and laughs, smacking the man on the back.


“It’s a pity we couldn’t get any more posters!” Arthur commented as the man turned around, heading towards the door. “He really is our best hope to get something good done in the White House!”


It seemed to me far more likely that there was another Donald Trump out there running for president, and that these people were talking about him, then that these people could be talking about the Donald Trump. The one who made every article about him sound like The Onion, the one who the Huffington Post was covering in their Entertainment section next to the Kardashians? The one who said “They want to silence Donald Trump, but Donald Trump cannot be silenced” in an interview, talking about himself in third person? The one who questioned repeatedly whether President Obama was born in the U.S., and whether Obama was a Muslim; the one who said ‘we need global warming’ ? The one who bragged about his IQ and talked to the ‘haters and losers’, as he called them, on his Twitter? They think he’ll become our President? Really?


If in some other universe where an avocado could run for president, and did so, and in a universe where an avocado won the Democratic primary, and it came down to an avocado or Donald Trump for president, I would vote for an avocado as president of the United States over Donald Trump.


But the posters were no joke. Someone actually made unironic Donald Trump campaign posters including the phrase ‘Fire Everyone Else!’ Someone thinks he will become the Republican party’s candidate, and win the primaries, and then go on to win the election. What?


Finally, I was called to the chair of a woman with wispy, dyed-brown hair. Her name was Pat. Although there was no barbers license visible anywhere in the shop, there was a handgun license pasted on the upper left corner of the large mirror where Pam worked.


She was friendly, with an I Love Lucy poster on the wall and a grandmotherly air about her. Plus, she wielded her electric razor with absolute confidence, doubtless because of her experience with guns. So I began to relax. Really, how much impact could someone’s political views have on the kind of hair cut they gave? And I was here for a hair cut, after all. So I took off my glasses and closed my eyes, tilting my chin up and waiting for the hair cut to finish. It took longer than I expected, but I trusted her. So when she finally stopped cutting my hair, I took my time putting my glasses on, stretching and trusting. I knew that, despite the lack of barber license, she knew what she was doing.


Right?
Right?
What?

 

I looked in the mirror. It was at this point that I regretted not putting my glasses on earlier. As I’m practically blind without them, I was unable to keep track of progress. Not that I would have challenged Pat.


The end result was a bowl cut. I wish I was joking. An honest to god, 2005-era, actual bowl cut. If I didn’t have access to hair gel, my style could only be described as pre-discovery Justin Bieber.


I yelped out a ‘thank you!’, handed over ten bucks, and exited quickly. Hey, who knows? Maybe Pat noticed my prep-school camp t-shirt. Maybe everyone else in the shop was laughing at me silently. Maybe the joke’s on me.
And maybe, hopefully, everyone will think my haircut is ironic.



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