Is this Gay? (Notes from an Abu Dhabi barbershop)

Today I went to get my hair cut, its not all I did but it’s the only thing I should write about to attempt in vain to keep you interested. (unless you want to hear about boxing training – Its going well, or tennis).

I haven’t had a hair cut since I have been in Abu Dhabi and today I bit the bullet. I hate getting my hair cut in England for the same reasons I hate going to lap-dancing clubs – The forced conversation.

I hate talking for the sake of talking and when someone is cutting my hair I prefer to just stare at myself in the mirror rather self consciously and not have to witter on about my next holiday or my plans for the weekend. (This is the same in lap dancing clubs, before you have the elusive lap dance, you have to go through the rigmarole of actually talking to the dancer. This is usually about exactly the same thing that a hair dresser will talk to you about – something I call a non-conversation)

Also you know you are going to head straight home to have a shower afterwards because of all the hair that falls down your back and itches like a mother-fucker.

These are not my only gripes, you have to book in advance and I hate having part of my day booked out in advance, in case something better comes along and I cant do it because I am getting my hair cut.
Also you have to tell a professional how to do his job when he asks what style you want – which inevitably leads to one of two, equally embarrassing, scenarios:

1. You awkwardly pull out a picture of David Beckham (or any other celebrity that you have printed off from the internet prior to coming) and mutter ‘like this please’ and then hang your head in shame as older and bigger boys have a stifled giggle. You know that they are thinking that ‘the best haircut in the world won’t make you look like that mate’ and you know that, you only printed off the picture so you don’t have to go through scenario 2:

2. ‘What can I do for you today?’ the barber asks. You're stunted, you can’t speak the lingo except for ‘short back and sides mate’ but you don’t want that. You don’t know what ‘blended on top means’ (you heard someone else say it last time you were in and it sounded cool) and you have no idea what to ask for without a picture from the internet.

It’s a minefield.

Today I walked into the barber and ill tell you now, it was great.(But weird)

First of all, the guy couldn’t speak English so that got the conversation worries out of the way. I then said ‘Short’ he said ‘all short’ I said yes. He then cut my hair.

Not only was there no conversation, they have personal televisions with English films showing. The barber puts an elasticized (or elasticated) robe around your neck, rather than a heavy clampy thing that they put on top of the cover in England, that stops all the hair getting down your back.

Anyway, now comes the problem of the title, after my hair (and beard) cut was finished he started massaging my head. It felt really good. I think he was getting a bit carried away though because the barber, while rigorously rubbing, scratching and massaging my head, was letting out little groans that sounded remarkably like sex noises.

This, albeit off putting for a second, was ok. Well, it wasn’t ok but the feeling of head (massage) was sufficient enough for me to not ask him to stop. I drifted off into a half-sleep.

Next thing I know, the chair was moving forwards little bits, almost a rocking sensation. Now, and I may be mistaken, I think he was rubbing his junk against the back of the chair while massaging my head. While making pleasurable little noises.

I STAYED!

He finished (not like that – I hope) and I paid, with a slightly to big of a tip, and left, relaxed and worried.

My hair, you don’t ask, is too short but I like it.

All joking aside, the service that people give here is great. It does border on annoying sometimes though (Sometimes I like to shop without an enthusiastic Asian ex-pat following me around a sports shop - and I mean a part-of-a-chain sports shop, not an independent one - trying to flog me everything I even glance at with cries of 'very nice sir, you want sir?')

At the hotels they fill up your drink before the last one is finished, and take away your plate the second you put down your fork.

At the supermarket there is a worker there that packs your shopping bag and carries it to the valeted car park (where they will wash your car while you shop for about 3 quid (5 dollars America :))

It is really something when you see up to five workers cleaning the ground of an underground carpark to make it look sparkly, when the windows of the skyscrapers are cleaned every day.

All this is because there is money here, they can afford to give these people jobs to do anything.

There is no recession in Abu Dhabi.

(There are issues with these jobs and the treatment of the workers but I will save that for another article)