Okay, let's look at the hair/timeline here...
...yeah. Thursday, last day before leave, and it's a quiet night. People are packing, planning, or just sitting around and taking things easy.
One chap decides he needs a spring cut for Easter vacation, and requests the help of one of his roommates to "just take a little off the sides".
The gentleman with the electric clipper, however, gets overly excited and takes a little
too much off the sides. Now left with a rather disturbing mess of hair, everyone decides it's best to just take everything off and then shave what's left with a razor.
A few minutes after this, I walk into the room on one of my nightly wanderings. What follows is a surge of team spirit and/or peer pressure, along with an increasingly large number of tourists coming to the room to check out the rapidly growing number of skinheads. Having never experienced so close a shave on the top part of my head before, I figured it would be a truly brilliant idea to volunteer myself for the electric (razor) chair.
So, here I am... Springtime in Norway, and the tallest hair on my head hasn't quite reached a millimeter yet. An interesting side effect of this is that my head now sticks to EVERYTHING. Taking my shirt off is now far more difficult than it should be, and I can attach washcloths and scarves to my pallid dome for later use. I also find myself bumping into windows, beds, doorframes, and all manner of other objects that my cranial antenna array used to alert me to.
Responses to the cut have been remarkably positive for the most part. True, there was an enlisted soldier who asked us what the bloody hell we were thinking, but the platoon (apparently this is the so-called 'correct' translation of the term) came back with everything from...
"You know, I think it actually looks good on you"
...to...
"You're definitely much cooler now"
...
...
Moving on.