My senior campaign adviser informed me this morning that that time had come. It was time for action! It was time to be swift and decisive and to do what had to be done without regret or sorrow. So this afternoon after having prepared ourselves we jumped into the SUV and hit the road.....
into the heart of darkness
There would be no messing around this time and no taking prisoners. We were about to do something that has needed to be done for awhile now, and we did it. It wasn't pleasant and it was nothing that previous experiences in my life could had prepared me for. It was time......
to lead the mission up the river, what lay at the end of that river......nobody could guess
The river was actually the Great River Road along Wisconsin's western border following the Mississippi river. And finally we arrived at the destination, I gathered all my strength and courage and went inside.....a custom hair salon. With a assembly seat in the balance and a fundraiser and press coverage looming this was no time for a ten dollar quickie haircut. It was time for me to be coiffed and styled.
I saw a snail.....crawling along the edge of a straight razor ....and survive
I entered the lobby and announced my presence and intentions, there would be no backing out now. With steely resolve I handed my jacket to the polite and friendly attendant and awaited what was to come. I was seated in the chair, my own face and old hair cut looming in the mirror. Almost seeming to taunt me, to make me question myself and my decision. I was physically scalp massaged and then suddenly, faster than I could respond, was handed my drink order.........
bottled water! water?.....he can drink paddy water
Soon after being subjected to a large color book of full color men's hairstyles I made my decision. After a brief shoulder massage and subsequent shampooing the instruments of torture came into view. Black scissors......black as night.....black as the grave. And razor sharp, stainless steel scissors. I soon lost track of what was happening, the polite small talk, the piped in music, the repeated offers of salon staff to bring me another drink. This was so alien to me, so unusual and surreal, my mind was racing with a thousand thoughts at the same time. I gathered my resolve and fought the urge to run in panic....
you can kiss my ass in the town square cause I'm bugging out man! I never signed up for this man !
Like I said nothing in my experience up to now could have possibly prepared me in the slightest for this experience. Back in my small home town we had one barber, no salon, no studio, we had a barber. He only gave three haircuts, if you were a farmer you got a crew cut. If you worked in town you got a basic and simple old fashion cut with a part. If you were military or police you got the flattop. You would sit down and he would grab your head like a much hated and maligned football. You would then be attacked by a electric clipper, the barber using brute force and sheer strength of will to force your hair into compliance. You knew when it was over when he would stick his hand out and bark at you "Five Dollars!"
There was none of this fancy treatment, no snacks and no beverages. And we learned to accept and like things that way. There was none of this unheard of politeness and cameraderie. Somehow I survived that afternoon in the salon. Somehow I walked into and came back from the edge and I know I was forever changed by the experience.
the horror..........the horror
The price you think you are prepared to engage in these campaigns, these conflicts, it is never what you think. Somehow I survived this test, this passage up the unknown river and returned. Different yes but also stronger and faster, more resolved. More in touch with my urban warrior senses. More in tune with the concrete jungle........more media friendly.
On Wisconsin! FORWARD!!!!