Yesterday afternoon, I arrived at a local hair salon to pick up my daughter from her appointment. According to Yelp, it’s classified as a $$$$ Hair Salon and Spa. Not too shabby. I was surprised when an older man sitting across from me piped up with, “Nice day to be in the barbershop, right?”
“Uhm, sure,” I said. ‘Barbershop’ is not how I’d classify this establishment, but who cared? Immediately I grabbed my phone and scanned for something to entertain myself as I waited.
Now, we’ve all experienced the feeling someone is staring at you as you do your best to ignore them. And I was getting this vibe from the dude who thought he was in a barbershop. Soon, I’d run the gamut of phone entertainment options and perused the magazines displayed on the table in front of me.
No sooner had I looked up from Martha Stewart’s Living, when staring barbershop guy approached with his arm outstretched.
“Do you mind if I give you my card,” he asked? “In case you ever need it. I’m a private detective.”
My first thought: Great. I look like someone who needs a private detective. My second thought: Eh, what the hell?
“Ha! Well, I’m a writer,” I said. “We should talk.” I chuckled and took his card.
He then proceeded to fill me in on a double-murder case he’s investigating–which also included international child trafficking, a state-police cover-up, and a slew of other sketchy characters.
Well, you don’t say? And people ask me where I get my writing ideas?