Needing a New Barber...er, Hairstylist

Speaking of illegal drugs, I sometimes jokingly lament how I've almost never been even offered drugs in my life (older brother trying to get me to smoke pot with him when I was 12 or whatever notwithstanding). I mean, I do happen to wear my heart on my sleeve most of the time so maybe people who know me just know that I'm not interested or something.

But a few weeks ago, I was in Washington Square Park watching my boy, James Altucher destroy some wannabe chess players, when some homeless-looking dude sitting across from me at a vacant chess table hollers out to somebody walking by, "Yo, come over here, I know you're looking for me."

So some dude comes over and sits next to this homeless-looking dude. "How much?" he asks? Homeless guy says, "Five."

"Okay," says the other guy. Homeless guy: "Scoot over here close, man. Closer. Closer, I don't want nobody seeing nothing."

Now, I, as this supposedly worldly experienced and traveled person, start freaking out, thinking these two guys were about to engage in some discreet sexual act or something! I mean, I had no idea, all I knew was some guy was scooting in really closely to the guy across from me for five bucks. So I like get up and am trying to watch James as I walk away from that bench.

Then the homeless dude's customer gets up and the homeless guy starts hollering at someone else. And I finally get it -- he's dealing some sorta drug. I sit back down and watch James play a couple games over a 15 minute or so span of time. I'm sitting there in jeans, a jean jacket and some trendy T-shirt with my long hair and all. And would you believe, the homeless guy must have done 3 or 4 deals in that time span...yet he never bothered to even ask me if I were interested (I wouldn't have been, of course, but, come on, how could he not even ask!)

In the be-careful-what-you-wish-for category, a couple weeks ago my hairstylist (gawd, I can't bring myself to call that guy a barber, you know? Too trendy, and all -- what have I become...a metrosexual? Alas, I digress.) tells me story after story while he's cutting my locks about him doing coke and "banging" customers and students in the neighborhood. I suppose that was my cue to ask for drugs. I didn't. And I won't be going back there again. I wonder why he thought I'd be interested.

Anybody know a good barber?