Knight 1

Chivalry: the medieval system, principles and customs of knighthood. The qualities idealized by knighthood are bravery, courtesy, honor and gallantry toward women.

My hair was being blow-dried when a young man, about mid-thirties came in, and the hairdresser who just finished sweeping the floor motioned for him to come to her station next to my chair. He sat down, and I glanced at him with a small nod as I got up, thanked my hairdresser after trimming my straight hair from shoulder length to just below the chin, then walked over to the counter to pay.

I was a long-time customer at Lulu’s hair salon since it was just five minutes away from my house, and the price for a haircut was just equivalent to a three Starbucks grande latte. I handed my visa. She swiped the card, frowned, and shook her head.

“This reader is not working properly, she muttered. “Please wait.” Lulu swiped the card three more times.

I looked at the clock on the wall. Ive been standing for eight minutes.  I noticed the man looking at the mirror pleased at his crewcut, stood up, took his wallet from his back pocket and walked toward the cashier.

“This is not working. Sorry. Will get a new one next week,” Lulu said. She looked at me. Do you have cash or check?”

I frowned. “No, that’s why I’m using my credit card.”

“How about you go home, get cash or check, come back and pay.”

“What? You want me to go home and come back pay you with cash? This is bad business!” I said feeling irritated like feeling sand in my socks.

I stomped out and pushed the glass door hard that the string of  small chimes attached on its frame jarred rather than tinkle. I hurriedly walked toward my car.

Suddenly I heard heavy footsteps behind me and a thick voice called out.

“Wait!”I spun around. It was the man at the hair salon.

“You don’t have to go back.” he said, smiling. “I paid for your haircut,”

“You…what?” I stammered. “But I was going to pay for it!” (It didn’t occur to me that I could walk away, don’t come back, and get away with a “free” haircut).

“I know. But it’s not your fault. You don’t have to go back,” he said, walking away.

“What’s your name?” I called.

“Jeff,” he answered without looking back. “God bless!”

I ran my fingers through my hair, shaking my head over this serendipitous encounter with a modern knight who used his wallet to rescue a damsel in distress. Chivalry is not dead. I just got rescued.

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