Being a known face must be quite weird in a nice way.
On Friday I was driving back from dropping a friend home. The night was cool, bathed with the soft glow of the moonlight interspersed with flashes of harsh headlights as people drove with their headlights on high beam. I was at peace. The roads were clear and I was driving along at a fair clip when suddenly, the right sight vision completely vanished under a cloud of darkness. Fighting panic as icy fingers ran down my spine I got the car in control and came to a halt next to the curb. As my heart slowed down from it's adrenaline charged leaps I had only one thought in mind - When your hair grows so long that it interferes with your driving, it's time to get rid of the inertia and go get a haircut.
Subsequently, I went for a haircut to my regular super, ultra hip salon conveniently located next to the grocery shop and the medical store near my apartment block.
Well, it was all normal, I went there, there were people waiting and I took up a chair and started browsing through the newspapers lying there. Ah, such relaxation.A perfectly normal haircutting experience.
Suddenly I felt, more than heard, something not quite normal, something that sent a jarring note in the otherwise commonplace experience. Looking up carefully I observed both the scissor-wielders looking at me with silly grins plastered on their faces. I was confused, what did I do to deserve this? Was I the lucky one millionth customer? Was I chosen for the annual sacrifice to the hair cutting Gods? Was my hair sticking up at such weird angles that they thought it was beyond any sort of repair?
And then it cleared up. The younger guy opened an almirah and took out a newspaper. It was the DNA paper where my third picture had appeared! They'd actually recognized me in the small photo and had kept the paper. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I wasn't grinning ear to ear. It's such a weird yet fun feeling, eventhough I know that the picture was for absolutely nothing worthwhile! It must be strange for actual known people to have people walk up to them and genuinely recognizing them. Maybe I should try to do something in which this becomes a regular thing.
For a moment I had grandiose dreams of signing my first autograph and more importantly getting a free haircut. But eventually, commerce won and I had to pay up the 40 Rs. he charges.
I did, however, take the newspaper for my records.