give me a #24

Jackie and I lost our minds last weekend and walked from our apartment in not-quite-Park Slope over the Brooklyn Bridge up through the West Village. After MANY close calls with the various and sundry Lance Armstrongs who cross the bridge at full speed in the pedestrian lane, and the tourists who should wear some kind of brake signal so one has some advance notice that they will be taking a photo of themselves sprawled between the pedestrian lane, the bike lane and any other available walk space, we arrived safely in Manhattan. As we headed West through the bowels of downtown, past delis and cheap clothing stores, we noticed a barber shop with a poster-size display of haircuts one could get for the low price of 10 bucks. #24 caught my eye because I seriously couldn't imagine any circumstance in which one decided they needed a pompadour, but who knows. Jackie talked me out of stopping in for a consultation.