Good Morning, Mister! Snip, snip, snip!

Your Boulevardier, in need of proper grooming, made his semimonthly visit to the Village Barber Shop in Castro Valley today. Three barbers were working: the proprietor, Al Proietti; the somewhat cantankerous but beloved Paul; and my barber of choice, Terence Lim. Your Boulevardier declines to use the moniker "Limbo" for Mr. Lim, though he seems not to mind it himself.

A pleasant crowd was in attendance: mostly older gentlemen, a few younger. One fellow came on a motorcycle, and got a flat-top. Another patron got a beard trim but did not remove his baseball cap. A distinguished, well-dressed fellow appeared to be coming from or going to a business meeting. Another appeared to be a construction worker on his day off. No young boys were getting their first haircuts today.

Al greeted most customers by name on arrival. Other than that, conversation was minimal; Paul made a comment on how President Bush was the greatest president ever, and nobody chose to debate him -- though much conversation ensued about the fact that nobody had chosen to take the bait. Surprisingly, Paul was not talking about his exploits on a recent casino junket on this morning, as he frequently does. The unspoken story is that Paul has been suffering some ill health, and perhaps his energy level (and talkativeness) are reduced accordingly.

As usual, Al ran the cash register, answered the telephone, and swept the floor. "The owner handles the cash and the trash," one patron remarked.

Al was enforcing the use of the take-a-number machine, in spite of the fact that the crowd in the chairs proved good-natured and seemed self-ordered. Every patron, upon arrival, was asked if he had left a coat behind on a previous visit, as Al was trying to find the owner for some forgotten outerwear. His query was frequently met with comical quips -- "I don't know, is it a nice coat? If so, it's mine," one fellow joked -- but the coat was not reunited with its owner this morning. Most patrons -- Your Boulevardier included -- made a point of telling Al as they left that they had, in fact, taken their coats this time.

The sun shone brightly but coolly as Your Boulevardier left the shop. A slight breeze tickled now-shorn temples. It was not a day one would forget a coat -- the weather would remind one upon departure that a coat was needed.

P.S. Today's headline is courtesy of Mr. Tom Waits.