Floyd's Barbershop

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At Floyd’s Barbershop, customers often noticed an odd occurrence when a delivery driver arrived late one afternoon. The neighborhood dog, usually indifferent to humans, would suddenly perk up and run towards the truck, barking excitedly as if recognizing someone long lost. Finally, the delivery driver opened the door, revealing his best friend—a scruffy mutt named Max. The dog jumped into the truck bed, wagging his tail non-stop, while the driver grinned sheepishly at everyone inside the barbershop. ‘Sorry for being late,’ he said, ‘but it seems old Max here always knows when my route changes.’

2. One morning, while waiting for his trim, a regular asked Floyd, ‘Why do all our neighbors’ dogs come here at exactly the same time every week?’ With a twinkle in his eye, Floyd replied, ‘Simple really—my barbershop is the only place where their owners never forget to pick them up on time!’ The regular laughed and nodded, realizing it was indeed a clever arrangement.

3. At Floyd’s Barbershop, one day after finishing his cut, a little boy walked in with his dog. The pup sniffed around curiously and suddenly froze, staring intently at something behind the counter. Everyone followed his gaze—and there, perched on top of a box, sat a tiny goldfish, swimming blissfully in mid-air. The barber whistled softly, and the fish seemed to respond, swimming even higher until it hovered just above the counter. A delivery driver leaned over and whispered, 'I thought you said this place was haunted!' The old man behind the chair chuckled, ‘Not exactly ghosts,’ he winked, ‘just Floyd’s special customers.’

4. At dawn, when Floyd’s Barbershop usually hummed with quiet conversation, something strange began happening. A neighbor would always appear, carrying a large bag of freshly baked bread. No matter how early or late he dropped it off, the aroma filled the shop instantly. One morning, as Floyd was finishing up his last customer, in walks a delivery driver with a huge box under his arm. ‘Got you some special shaving cream,’ he says, grinning. Turns out, every day for months, someone had been dropping off unexpected gifts—bread, pastries, even once a jar of homemade jam. By noon, Floyd’s Barbershop smelled like an entire bakery had moved in next door.