Getting my hair cut.

So I've sort of been waiting for one of those cultural experiences that would really make a great story, and today it came. I got my hair cut.

Whenever I'm about to do something in Japanese that might actually require some explanation (such as how long to cut my hair, what style I want, etc.) I always worry a little bit. And then there's the problem that I never talk while getting my hair cut, I just think it's kind of weird. So I was worried I'd get a chatterbox for a barber and then have to think the whole way through.

We'll get to that in a little bit.

First thing when I walk in, two gorgeous women, perhaps the two most attractive women I've seen in this whole country, greet me with smiles and seem quite adamant that I understand just how attractive they are and that I should not go to any other hair salon because of this point alone. Well done, ladies, it worked. They asked me if I wanted a stylist, a pro stylist, or a super stylist. What? I went with stylist and was told I would have to wait a half an hour. I didn't have that much time so I asked who I could get now, and 2 minutes later I was sitting in the chair with my own super-stylist asking me what I needed done.

I said something to the effect of, "I want my hair shorter," knowing there was no way I was getting out of here without some trendy Japanese hair cut. I was brought to get my hair shampooed and was wrapped in like 8 layers of towels and a heated blanket. They even put a towel over my face, which added to the surprise when my not my super-stylist but a woman I couldn't see began talking to me. Thankfully, when the towel came off my eyes, she was, of course, beautiful. I was then brought back to my seat and told to wait.

A third person walked up and combed my hair a little bit and I wondered, "if my super-stylist is so super, couldn't he have done this himself?" but before I knew it I was getting a massage. A really good massage. Japan 1, America 0.

After 10 minutes of relaxation, my superstylist came back and started cutting. Only, instead of scissors, he used a razor blade. He did talk to me a little bit, but when he heard I was from America, he excitedly called over his super-model friend to talk to me, as she had just been to los angeles about a week ago. Yes.

When I was finished, it didn't look as horrible as I had feared. I definitely got a Japanese interpretation of the word "haircut" but it turned out all right. I thanked super-stylist and the attractive women at the door. Then I thanked them again. Then I stared at them for a few seconds and left.

I'm not sure how long I should wait to book another hair cut for next weekend.