My trip to the bougie barbershop

This week has been one of change for me. I will roll with the punches in my professional life, but I have to draw the line somewhere. That line is drawn at my barbershop! I'm a natural chick and one week I decided to get a haircut. And I wanted a real cut. No offense to hairstylists, but I haven't met one yet who cuts my hair the way I want it cut. So, I went to a popular shop in my city. It was in the shadows of Uptown, in the Plaza-Midwood neighborhood. They had that old school barbershop feel. A lot of trash talking, music blasting and the sound of oil sheen being sprayed. Bad ass kids running around and what not. Barbers dressed in jeans, Jordans and tee shirts. Well, that shop is now the barber school. I had a bad experience with a beauty school trip in college so, umm, no thanks. And my barber moved to the shop's downtown location. Imagine my shock and surprise when I walked in and saw: this!

 And I had to wait an hour--for a shape up! I don't like this. Give me a barber shop on a corner in the hood. I want the barber to brush the hair from my neck with a corn husk brush and not an air blower. I want my barber in jeans and a tee shirt, not a tie and baby blue button down like a Wells Fargo banker.
But my hair looks so good. Still, I want that old thing back. I thought about not returning, but I know for a fact, I won't get this razor sharp edge up anywhere else. So, I'll deal with the other patrons looking at my tattoos as if I stepped off the pages of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I'll search for parking uptown and I'll put on some flats, just in case I have to walk. A barber is like a good bartender, he knows what you want and need.