Escaping Reality

Chapter 2: New Man

BUZZZZZZ. The buzzing of the electric razor startled me as its sound was amplified off the walls of the small bathroom. My hair fluttered to the ground in large clumps. After a couple quick passes over my scalp I could no longer recognize the face in the mirror. As I ran my hand over my head the short prickly hairs sent a tingly sensation through my fingertips. I had always had a full head of hair, countless hours and a lot of self worth had been invested into the many inches of hair that now lay on the grimy covered floor. 

A pulse of energy shot slowly consumed my body. It was an indescribable, almost euphoric. I felt rebellious, free, and different. The simple act of buzzing my hair made me feel like a new person. Some capable of taking on any identity he chose. It was like I had killed the old version of myself and been reborn.

I swept up the loose hair on the ground as best as I could and flushed what I had collected down the toilet. I didn't want to leave any clues hinting at my whereabouts. On the way out I took one more look at my new and improved look in the mirror. I couldn't believe how big of an effect hair had on my appearance. As I stepped out into the brisk outdoors the cold air attacked my exposed scalp causing heat to rise to my cheeks. I rubbed my hands together as fast as I could, expecting to instantly warm up. I continued to sling my backpack over my shoulder and hop back on my bike, stepping into the first pedal with a groan. A couple resistant pedals later and I started to pick up the pace. Nearly two miles later I could begin to make out the silhouette of the airport.

"It's game time" I whisper to myself as I dismount my bike.

I make my way over to a patch of tall grass I had scoped out a few weeks back. After checking to make sure I wasn't being watched I nestled my bike in the brush, making sure it's hidden from plain sight. With a little bit of trial and error I was finally able to get the bike completely hidden from the naked eye. There was a spring in my step as I left my bike behind and jogged the quarter mile to the airport entrance. The parking lot was scattered with a few cars but largely empty. It was only 7:00 am, not a lot of people braved early morning Tuesday flights apparently. 

The warm gust of air was a pleasant welcome as I stepped into the airport foyer. After double checking my tickets I made my way to the security check. The TSA agent shot me a funny look as I handed her my ID and ticket, noticing that I was no longer sporting the same head of hair present in my drivers license photo. A stamp and grunt later I was on my way to the X-ray scanner. Unsurprisingly I was stopped for a "random" pat down, oddly enough they were becoming too frequent to truly be random. The guy performing the full body pat down was named Henry. He looked to be in his mid fifties, with a soft face and genuine eyes that drooped to the sides just slightly.

"I'm sorry pal, I don't want to do this either" he said tiredly as he motioned for me to lift my arms.

As my new best friend Henry pat me down I caught a whiff of cheap cologne. Wait what was that I thought, the faint smell of cigarettes lingered after the initial scent of cologne wore off. Must be stuck in his clothes I thought. Never would have pegged Henry for a smoker I thought to myself as he finished up the pat down by unenthusiastically poking and prodding at my ankles. After deciding that a 6'3, 140 pound teenager posed no threat to national security he let me claim my backpack and move on. Head down and hood up, I walked over to the terminal and scanned my surroundings, careful to not draw too much attention. There were a couple dozen people, mostly older folks, waiting to board. I got in line and waited my turn.

The gate attendant took my ticket, gave it a quick once over and waved me through. No pat down or interrogation this time. I found my seat, 19A, and quickly sat down. Moments later an older woman joined me in 19B. She introduced herself as Betty and before she could finish her first sentence I could tell that she was a talker. Oh god, this is going to be a long flight I thought to myself as she rambled on.

I offered my name and gave her a couple nods to show that I was following. However, I quickly wrapped up the conversation, popped my earbuds in and sand back into my economy seat. My music began to play and my eyes fluttered shut leaving me along with my thoughts pounding against the backdrop of some early 2000's hip-hop.