Every day when I leave home, I crank up T-Hoe's radio in search of old favorites. Let's just say that I scan through 11 stations, only 3 of them being what my boys might consider acceptable. Another 3 would pass Hick's muster. And the remaining 5 play classic rock from the 60s and 70s, with a little 80s hair bands thrown in. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Once I backed out of the garage, I used my phone to check in at Terrible Cuts for a much-needed trim of my lovely lady-mullet. The app revealed a 16-minute wait, which was surprising for a Tuesday near the end of the month. But not unacceptable. It takes me about 15 minutes to drive to Terrible Clips.
Upon arrival, I saw my name on the computer screen for check-ins. Under my name was another: Claire. One lady was sitting in the chairs waiting, so I assumed she was Claire. She was directing a somewhat flamboyant dude on how to cut an old man's hair. Let the record show that the last time I saw a dude cutting hair in Terrible Cuts was...oh...let's see...about...NEVER! He was good, though. As far as being pleasant with people and making small talk. That old guy's hair didn't turn out too bad, either.
The other current customer was also an old guy, being cut by a young gal I have never seen there. She was done with him shortly. After sweeping up, she called me over. I hoped that Claire didn't feel resentful, since she was sitting there before I arrived. But it was clear on the check-in screen that I was #1, and Claire was #2. While waiting, a lady had come in, saw our names, and left, muttering that it was too busy. Two old ladies came in after her, and both of them checked in at the register, even though my eventual cutter told them there were two ahead of them. Me and Claire.
Midway through my mullet-trimming, Flamboyant Dude finished with Old Man, and took him to the register to pay. Let the record show that his personable personality earned him a $5 tip on a $12 haircut! Anyhoo...Old Man turned to Claire, who appeared to be his wife, and asked if she was checked in. Claire said, "No. They're too busy today. I didn't check in. I have things to do." SHE WASN'T EVEN CLAIRE!
Anyhoo...my gal was a pretty good haircutter for Terrible Cuts. She took off just enough, and made both sides even, layered it, and didn't hack the bangs. While My Gal was cutting, and Flamboyant Dude was flattering one of the old ladies by telling her she didn't look 64 (I'd assumed she was 74), the door chimed.
A muscular gray-haired man came in. He was wearing a purple T-shirt with a logo I couldn't read in the mirror. I noticed, because purple was my school color, and I always look to see if I know people wearing such shirts. I didn't.
Anyhoo, when Purple Shirt came in, Flamboyant Dude looked over and said, "Have a seat, Claire." So Purple Shirt sat down.
What in the Not-Heaven? Was Flamboyant Dude joking around? Was I missing something? You know how crazy the world is these days. I looked again. Was there something I hadn't noticed? No...I didn't think so. Purple Shirt was a tall man, dressed in man clothes, with some gray beard stubble.
"They know who I am," Purple Shirt said, as My Gal turned around to look at him.
"Oh. You're Claire." This all went over my head, even when My Gal added, "Do you want me to put your name down?"
THEN it became crystal clear. Purple Shirt must have used his wife's Terrible Cuts app to check in. So her name is the one that came up.
Anyhoo...getting back to that radio thing...one of the songs I heard was "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes." Which reminded me of "Judy in Disguise (With Glasses)" just because of the name Judy. And it was on my mind when I started writing this, thus the title.