And so it was that I paid an Indian guy whose name I didn't quite catch to cut most of my hair off and nick my neck with a straight razor

Yes. Lately it has been about a million degrees here (555,538 degrees Celsius), mostly because of obscene humidity. My friend Matt, who taught me that the Scottish invented heat, told me that hot weather makes one's hair grow faster.

It sure does seem that way. More important, I know for a fact that a head covered with curly hair is basically like wearing a stocking cap in the summer. So I had to do something about this before my head spontaneously combusted. Namely, get a haircut.

For whatever reason, barbershops are called "saloons" in this corner of the world. I like the idea, but it would be better if cold beer were involved. Here's where I went:

They let me in even though it was midafternoon and I smelled kind of sweaty.

No one in the place spoke English. But, being the resourceful guy that I am--or maybe just terrified that I would get a buzz cut--I brought a photo of me with short hair. So they sat me down, buckled me in and set to work.

Before. Ignore the pinkness of the camera, please.

Oh, and what fun the work was. He snipped and snipped and examined his creation and snipped some more. Then he shaved me with a straight razor. For some reason, the song "Stuck in the Middle With You" kept playing in my head.

The end result? A cooler noggin, a nicked up neck and, well... this:

After. The ridiculous part in this gent's hair lasted about a block. Stop laughing.

Feeling less hot (and less dorky, having obliterated the part in my hair) but more thirsty, I decided to celebrate at a neighborhood juicery.

They squeeze all kinds of fruits here.

And as I sat and relaxed with my cold cocktail of mango, watermelon and kiwi, the cuts on my neck now safely healed, I couldn't help but smile.

Almost, but not quite, properly tousled.

So now I know. Less hair equals less hot, and Dh25 is a good price for a haircut, shave, beard trim and face massage.