Excuse Me Young Man

While walking through the Minneapolis airport the other day, I passed a gate where people were waiting for their flight. As I walked by, a woman looked at me, then turned to her companion and said, "Do you remember the Hara Krishnas?" I had to laugh.

It's true, my super-short hair gets looks. (At least, it does outside of San Francisco. I'm downright boring next to the woman with red hair, devil horns and pink tights I saw on the bus the other day.) But I've discovered that I'm not the slightest bit uncomfortable about it. Because, dammit, I earned that sassy stubble. 

So, when an elderly man gets my attention by saying, "Excuse me, young man," I can just laugh it off. It feels good.