Waiting to get my haircut, I was not paying attention to the exchanges; probably too busy on Twitter. The next thing I knew the man getting a haircut in front of me and I assume a shave, shrieked like a calf at slaughter. I looked up and could barely believe my eyes. The blood shot up into the air from his neck. The barber yelled at the man in a foreign language; maybe Russian. The client tried to clamp his hand over the slit in the side of his neck but still the blood pumped out at a deadening pace. I sat there, not really believing what I was seeing. One of the female stylists, fainted with a thud. The shears gripped firmly in her hands, stabbed into her thigh. I was amazed in the amount of blood that poured from her. I glanced back to the man with the sliced throat, he had turned extremely white and his breathes gurgled like a drain that isn’t quite sure if it wants to back-up or not. His blood seeped between his fingers as he groped for a towel from the counter. He slipped to the floor and his head hit the built in sink with a thud. The barber continued to rant at the man, this time with bits of English thrown in. “Look at the mess you’ve made…” Was one thing I remember him saying, the rest is muddled in my mind. I did not think to call 911, it just did not seem real. Then my stylist comes to me and says “You’re next.” I looked at her hands dripping with blood and it smeared around her mouth. I stammered and froze in my seat. “Next for what?” came to mind but nothing came out of my mouth.