I’ve been busy. Exceedingly busy. Which is why, though ‘get a haircut’ has been on my to-do list for weeks, I hadn’t managed to stop in for a trim.

This weekend, however, my brother pointed out that I had started to grow payis. Then, this morning, Jess told me I had ‘lady hair’.

So, at lunch, I headed off to Jean Louis David. Which, while admittedly French for ‘Supercuts’, has normally sheared me well. Today, however, there were only two stylists at work, and a shaggy-haired lineup waiting for them.

So, short on time, and remembering that my intern Jed recently had his hair cut at the nearby Astor Place Barber Shop, I headed there instead.

Located in a dingy basement below the corner of Astor and Broadway, the Astor Place Barber Shop is enormous – apparently about 9,000 square feet – and packed to the rafters with more old Greek and Italian barbers than I could count, each with electric trimmers buzzing.

I was more than a bit worried about plopping down in ‘Einstein’ Enrico’s chair (as his sign proclaimed) – his stooped stance, mildly shaking hands, and thick, thick glasses didn’t inspire much confidence. Nor did I feel much better when he launched into cutting, taking off giant chunks in one fell buzzer swoop.

The entire cut took less than three minutes (which, at $12, is perhaps all the time I had paid for). But, in the end, it looks surprisingly good. A bit short, perhaps, but overall pretty nice.

Nice enough, in fact, that in six weeks, when I next need a trim, I suspect I’d once again live on the edge, and head on back.