With a fair amount of trepidation, I tried something new: an upscale-ish barbershop, Franks' Chop Shop. This was not a salon, thankfully not that Japanese guy Mitsuru, but an old-school barbershop on the Lower East Side owned by guys who publilsh an artsy culture magazine. Strange. But reputed to be the place for the best cheap men's haircut in New York.
I told the guy I wanted something different, and he suggested we use my hair's prickly nature as a force for good, not evil. This is the result. I feel a little like Joe Isuzu, but it's nice to have short hair. The last time I got a different type of haircut, at the hands of Mitsuru, I had a coworker who flat-out stared at during the entirety of a news meeting. I'll probably get the same.
Great story in the Times today about enjoying the NCAA tourney in Vegas. I got to see the first weekend of the tournament there about five years ago, and the scene at the sports books is pretty much how the Times describes it.
“We come here from the airport and literally go three or four days without ever seeing the sun,” said the elder Mr. Wickell, 67, a retired computer network administrator. “My wife calls us to ask about the weather, and I tell her the same thing every time: ‘72 degrees and smoky.’ ”
6 miles, 47:06