After our return to Boston from Seattle I decided that I need a beard. Not necessarily in a permanent way, but just in a I-haven't-tried-this-since-high-school kind of way. So I determined that my next shave will be at a well-regarded mens salon in Seattle. This has the benefit of saving me a couple of minutes (and possibly a few drops of blood) each morning along the road, which will be better spent wandering the motel parking lot trying to get a wifi signal to post my next blog entry. It also has the benefit of giving me a rugged mountain man look that will instantly communicate the vastness of our heroic journey, and help me fit in with the locals in South Dakota and Montana. (I'm also angling to have a tourist at Mount Rushmore ask me questions under the impression that I'm a park ranger.)
Unless I just come out looking like a dirty hippie.
Compare the nascent beard of our Vermont trip, to the awkward half-formed beard of the "Coast Cooling" party and of today (above).
Now as body modification goes I think that a beard is pretty mild: reversible and actually requiring fewer sharp objects than the alternative. From Matthew's reaction, however, you'd think I had just tattooed my face with a vulgar scene involving goats. I think it's safe to say that he finds my beard to be more in the dirty-hippie than the rugged-mountain-man mode. His is the only negative reaction so far though, and I hope that by the time we get to Seattle he'll come around.
I'll be keeping you all in the loop with up-to-the-minute descriptions of my follicle happenings!
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