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We spent so much time at Michael’s that historic events transpired while we were there.
The great blackout of 1965 occurred during one of our biweekly visits.
I agreed-on the condition that it remain a reasonable length. But I should have known that when it came to hair, my mother had no scruples.
She was ruthless: As soon as I was seated in the barber’s chair, she kept instructing the barber, ” Piu corto , piu corto “-shorter, shorter. When my haircut was finished, it looked exactly as it had before I’d departed on the trip.
When it’s the Age of Aquarius and you’re a 6-foot-2, 125-pound hairless geek, you aren’t going to attract women whose idea of handsome is Paul Mc Cartney.
I was stuck sharing hotel rooms with all the other losers on the bus because nobody, not even my cousin, would room with me.
Halfway through the trip, the coolest guy on the bus-a rock musician who attended an alternative high school in Newton, Mass.-decided I was hip, or at least unconventional, and became my roommate, bless his heart. By the end of the vacation, my hair was almost normal length, and under his tutelage I was considered cool, too. But I knew full well that this fantasy would soon end and I would be delivered back into the clutches of my mother and her evil scissors.