Shave And A Haircut, Two Bits.

Shave and a Haircut, and the associated response, “two bits”, is a simple musical couplet sometimes used at the end of a musical performance. the tune became associated with a profane insult in some Latin American countries, particularly Mexico. Whistling the tune or using a car horn to play it is considered highly offensive. The insult is “chinga a tu puta madre,” “go fuck your whore of a mother.”

I was walking home recently, through the Financial District late on a Thursday night, when I came across a pack of wild bachelorette creatures. They’re all the same: dolled up, inappropriately drunk and leading around an invariably heavyset friend in a veil – all of them chewing on little plastic penis straws. They’re also all overly pleased with themselves and completely devoid of any self-awareness as if they invented this pre-marriage ritual and have the keys to the city or something. At least men are prone to renting hotel suites so their antics can’t readily be traced back to them. That’s what I’ve been told, anyway. Maybe there was one exception. Alright two.

Regardless, I assure you, nobody that didn’t gain 30 pounds living in a freshman dorm with Cindy fucking cares that it’s Cindy’s bachelorette party. Ever.

Especially not anyone working on the 5th floor of a Boston office building trying to conduct business at the ungodly stag/stagette party hour of 5pm on a Monday evening. A few times a week, some silly local party bus drives around and around my block blasting the ‘shave and a haircut’ beat on their insanely loud horn. They come up Boylston to Tremont, turn right, make another right at the 7-11, head back around that block to Boylston and then do it all over again. Again and again, without pause. It is excrutiating, excessive, and I think if I were on that bus immersed in the revelry, I’d still walk up to the driver and ask: “Are you frigging autistic, or what?“

Back to my riveting tale. One of the young friends stopped two scruffy-looking forty-something dudes in the middle of the sidewalk ahead of me and threw out her arms: “Guess what dudes? Where you headed? Bachelorette party!” They just snickered and walked around her. I burst out laughing and had to cross the street. My weeks of auto-horn torment suddenly somehow vindicated. Or maybe I just wish she’d asked me.