Six months ago I would have told you that I dreaded going to the Dentist, and hated getting my hair cut. Hell, six weeks ago I would have said that.

Well, I had to go in for a root canal about a month ago, and I approached the procedure with a healthy amount of trepidation. To my lasting surprise the procedure was quick and completely painless. It was so fast, in fact, that I can't even justify complaining about the discomfort. And to make matters worse, or better, I suppose, the dentist and his assistant enjoyed an easy and remarkably high-brow banter, intelligently bullshitting about the political and cultural history of Kyrgyzstan and the fraught relationship between the Persians and the Afghans while they drilled my tooth with a drill that didn't even make any fucking noise!

I walked out of that Dentist's office smarter and better looking than when I walked in.

So maybe I was primed for a revolutionary trip to the Barber Shop. I got wise, this time, and when the young Russian woman who greeted me at the door asked if I'd like to have my hair washed, I said yes, please. Never say no to a girl asking to wash your hair, that's what I say. And as I lay my head back and let her fingers do their thing, I allowed myself to wash into the conversations flowing around me.

I say that I find people fascinating, but really rarely am I able to really take the pleasure of being an anonymous witness. Sitting in the Dentist's chair, I am an anonymous witness because to the Dentist and his assistant I am no longer a person but something to be worked on. To the Barbers and their customers I disappear the moment my head dips and Olga begins to soak my hair. So I listen and find that most people are smarter, funnier, more human than I generally judge them to be. They have something to say.

I don't know why it took me so long to discover that these places have their subtle pleasures, but everybody can expect a better coif and brighter smile going forward.