Carpe Diem Baby, Never Too Old To Rock The 'Hawk...

The first time I had a mohawk I was 25 years old. One night I went to a bar on my own and in no time flat someone chucked an ice cube at me. I looked around and saw nothing. Then it happened again. By the third time I saw a table of 5 dudes in matching Lacoste shirts laughing it up. Thus, I gave them the finger. Suddenly they turned serious. One of them, in a light green variety of aforementioned shirt, walked up to my table. Keep in mind I had no illusions, disillusions or delusions for that matter that I could actually take these five guys but hey, I was 25 and damn it I wasn't going down without a fight.

Two bouncers with a combined weight of over 485 lbs. shadowed the guy coming to my table. This was good because it put the two buick-sized bouncers between this preppy fool and his neat chums. I was going to stand but then realized that would have been confrontational. In fact, when I stayed put and remained calm I could see him hesitate half a beat. They may have had the numbers but I my mitts, my boots,  a 22 ounce beer mug with heft, a bar stool and only four people between me and then back exit.

He smiled briefly and then spread his hands wide. Then to my pleasant surprise he actually apologized. He said that they were a couple of hockey players in town blowin' off steam and that they weren't used to seeing guys with mohawks.

"But when you do see 'em you throw ice cubes at 'em?" I asked.

"I know, sorry about that it was stupid."

We shook hands and all was good. I got a nod from the bigger of the two bouncers just prior to them melting back into the sea of patrons. I only kept the mohawk for about a month because in that time three other situations similar in nature to the one mentioned above, occurred. That was two times too many for me. 

Flash forward to 2011 and we have mohawk version number two. Was I too old for the look? Probably, but I'm happy to say that mohawk part-deux brought nothing but smiles (ok maybe not from my wife), compliments, reluctantly polite comments and straight ahead rock and roll. (As can be witnessed in the above photos). I never intended to keep the look into my twilight years, it was more of a lark; and a fun-filled awesome one at that. Call it mohawk-zen-full-circle or mohawk-closure. Hell, call it silly for all I care but the bottom line is life is short and if a guy can play rock while rockin' a mohawk in his mid-forties, then dang it I wanna know that guy...I wanna be that guy. I am that guy! And if you want to rock a mohawk, don a tight Lacoste shirt in a smashing lavender-teal combo color or serenade your babe in nothing but boxers and cowboy boots from the highest rooftop I say carpe diem baby...so long as nobody gets hurt.

**Incidentally the hockey team those fun-lovin' cut-ups played on was the Toronto Maple Leafs circa 1989-90-ish. Sorry Leafs but that 195 pound brother of yesteryear with the racing stripe down the center of his head was not only chalk full of piss, vinegar and not too much sense, he was a Vancouver Canucks fan...you dudes didn't have a chance!