Wednesday, December 20th, 2006
Virginia, 2004.
Someone actually took the time to cut out these letters and paste them to the door. I dig that. We need more of that in the world.
A few doors down from this bank I walked into a barber shop. It had just one old guy in it at the back... I assume he was the shop owner waiting for a customer to walk in on this very slow, hot day. I had my bulky SLR camera around my neck and asked him if I could take a photo of him in his shop.
His place was absolutely pristine... The ideal 50's barber shop. It was so amazing... It had the rotating barber pole... nice polished black and white checkered floor... about 6 different hair-cutting stations (3 on either side of the room against the two main mirrored walls) with combs submerged in that blue-green goo... all the seats were vacant (and likely had been for some time)... everything was outlined in gleaming chrome.
He slowly raised his 70-year-old head from his newspaper, scowled a wonderful deep-wrinkled scowl, and shook his head, "Photos? I'm not interested in any of that."
"Would you mind if I just took a couple quick photos of your shop then? I'll make sure you're not in the frame at all."
"No thanks... not interested."
"Well... I certainly appreciate your honesty, sir. I'll be on my way. Have a good one!"
"You too, son. Good luck."
In retrospect I think I should have gotten to know him a little better before going in for the "can I take your photo" bit. He deserved more than that.
