Jay Buhner Buzz Cut Night

Jay Buhner Buzz Cut Night

 By, Andrew K. Smith

I am in the back of the bathroom line at the Mariners game and there are two bald guys in front of me in line talking to each other. My eyes get bigger than the movies and I start to panic. I have peladophobia, which is a fear of bald people, and it totally sucks. Jay Buhner is the topic of their discussion.

“Jay Buhner is a disgrace,” the first bald man said. “I can’t stand Jay Buhner for allowing Jay Buhner Buzz Cut Night.”

“Yeah, his promotions, ‘Take me out to the Bald Game’ or ‘Bald is Buhnerful’ are pretty messed up. He’s actually bald and he’s promoting people to be bald.”

The other bald man laughs. “Thank god it only lasted for one season. Worst all time promotion ever. Fuck Jay Buhner he’s a disgrace to bald people everywhere.”

“My thoughts exactly. Fuck Jay Buhner.”

My heart starts to pump up and down like pistons. I don’t know if I can bear it any longer. Then I think to myself that a bathroom line at halftime of any game is like the mall lines on Black Friday. So I slowly try one of my relaxation strategies my therapist taught me. I take a big breath and then let it out.

I stand here in line, I am squirming, and I am trying to remain calm. This is a regular experience for me at sporting events because I always drink too much and break the seal. I tell myself to keep it together while I am falling apart at the same time.

Then the line starts to decrease. The whole time I hover near the toilet with someone that to the best of my predictions is about to shake off, like when I am in a parking lot with my blinker on, waiting for the next spot—except this time I use no manners and dash closer to the clay piece of earth. At that instant I see a man back step away from the toilet and my eyes lock onto the toilet like fighter pilots do to bad guys. Almost at my destination, my eyes aggressively scramble for the open toilet. I approach the white porcelain gutter and it begins to look somewhat handsome. Finally I make it to the toilet. In my brain fireworks start to go off like the forth of July. The celebration came to soon. I am stuck in between two bald people. It’s a bald sandwich, my worse nightmare coming to life before my eyes.

My mind and body split in two pieces. My mind is in a panic because I am being suffocated by baldness. My bladder feels like a balloon that’s about to pop. Then I stare forward, frozen like an otter pop.

The bald man on my right yells to the other bald guy, “Sir did you shave your head bald?”

The bald man on my right responds, “Yeah my wife loves it. She likes to rub it for good luck in the morning.”

“I can’t stand when people shave their heads bald as a fashion statement. We bald people don’t acknowledge you as apart of the bald community.”

The fake bald man starts to breath heavy. “Fine, whatever.”

Then the bald men exit the urinals and I start to relax again and I pee in peace. Then I shake off and walk to the sink and I ponder to myself, if my fears of bald people apply to bald people who pose as bald people? Or people who actually can’t grow hair?

—Inspired By, LD