Drinks With Doug

The Day I Was Almost An African-American
But only for an hour....

Saturday's weather: Hot but not unbearably humid with high haze in an otherwise cloudless day. Abundant sunshine warming to upper 80's I reckon. But it feels like change will be blowing in soon.
Saturday's drink: I would make Dark n'Stormy's, but I have neither Goslings rum or ginger beer. Perhaps nothing more than chilled Pinot Grigio.
Saturday's waste-of-time for 80's kids, or for the Gays: Can you believe this?! Lordy.

Well that's a provocative title. It's not meant to be. Really, more just stealing a headline idea from a story a pal of mine, Rich Leiby*, who once wrote: "The Day I Almost Lead the Iraqi Army." If you can find it online, mazel tov.

First, I have to say that C and I went to a movie Saturday afternoon - something rarely done - and he was sweet in bowing to my wishes. We went to my ultimate fanboy movie: The X Files: I Want To Believe. (Yeah, a fanboy is going to link to the site, c'mon.)

It was just fun being in a big dark room full of people clapping the first moment when Scully picked up her phone to hear: "Scully, it's Mulder." I won't reveal any other X-Files-y type moments - real fans should experience this cold. Just like we did sitting in front of our televisions Friday nights in the 90's - the decade that gave us stone cold paranoia for want of any other fear. (Oh, how I wish we could turn the clock back...) Anyway: two fan-boy thumbs up. ("Mulder, it's Scully. Where are you?")

So, Saturday. I'm on the couch, waiting until the 2:15 show time start for X-Files. Waiting for time to dissolve. Sadly, it doesn't. What to do?

Well, I have been rather shaggy of late. My beard was more beardy than I felt comfortable with, and my hair...well, since Tommy at Hair Cuttery 2 was put on leave for facility rehab, I've been on hair strike. Not a wise decision. My hair grows like the national debt, and frankly is less appealing. At least in its intermediate state. But no Tommy? Hmmm.

I ask C if he's ever been in the barber shop on U between 13 and 14. "Edge's Barber and Beauty Shop"...under the store that used to sell porn I think. Been there since I've been in DC and I'd never been. Sure, it was a homeytown old-skool barbering shop. Like in the movies, but without Cedric the Entertainer. But what the heck, barbering is barbering.

I wander in around 12:15. I'd like to say the shop went quiet, but it was already pretty low-level. Hard to make sense of what exactly was going on. Do I give my name to someone? Do I wait in line? I took a chair and asked the guy next to me how long the wait was. "The guy with the cornrows doesn't have anyone next," the woman sitting on my other side said. His customer looked pretty shorn; I decided to wait.

Things I noticed, largely in order: bland white walls, terrible fluorescents and dropped ceiling, Redskins stuff everywhere, loud contemporary gospel. Could never quite tell who was working, who was a customer, and what was going on. People wandering in and out, chairs opening up.

Dude signals me back around 12:45. No worries on time, I think. But not a pair of scissors in sight.

Turns out Edge's, and maybe a lot of African-American barbershops, use only razors. Everyone had like four, with who knows how many attachments. Meh, I think. I tell the kid what I want. "Beard trim, like to three days growth," I say. "Yeah, I'll give you a sweet shade," he says. "Hair cut to about 1/2 inch, bit longer right in front." "1/2 inch?" "Uh, make it an inch."

What follows is 45 minutes of some of the loudest, bawdiest, and most discursive commentary I'd ever been lucky enough to take part in. Hemingway. Ceasar. Lesbians. Obama & McCain. The human soul. More lesbians. It was, again, loud; but with its only rolling cadence and not off-putting. I largely held my tongue. New kid in the hood and all that.

Most surprising was the politics talk. Universal agreement that Bush was the worst fraud to occupy the office. No surprise. Liked Clinton's kick-ass-itude, but lover her more for having a player as a husband. But for Obama: surprising sour mood. Hot-dogger. Dissin' the vets in Iraq. Don't know what he'll do. Agreement he's the biggest risk, but still, "I'm votin' for him. First time. Probably the last!"

Someone says Obama being set up to have the worst administration ever. This sets off a round. "This'll be the last time anyone asks if America's ready to vote for a black man!" "Ain't no-one going to be asking that again for a loooong time!" "Enjoy Jimmy Carter Obama while you can!" Hooting all around.

In the end, I got a great cut. (Those of you who know what I do can check me out online Monday! Those of you who don't, get bent.) 20 bucks, plus 10 tip. Lots of fun. Walked out of the shop feeling I had a taste of a traditional, and largely unexperienced to white-folk, aspect of urban black life. The raucous barber shop. And had great fun.

Got a sweet shade, too.

*I'm using Rich's full name here, unlike the tradition of DWD, as abbreviating it with an initial seems silly.