Tuesday afternoon I went back to get the tat on my calf touched up. I had noticed that the ink was spotty in some areas and parts were either fading or getting lighter. The artist said "no problem" and started getting his equipment set up. Soon I was up on the table, my jean leg pulled up to my knee when that familiar pain started.
I got out my phone and texted a few friends to let them know that I didn't pass the big exam I had spent the last several months studying for. The pain was kind of what I needed to clear my mind from all the securities market-makers, the municipal bond syndicate bidding, the hypothetical client wanting to long an uncovered put and the same poor client who had to cover a maintenance call on his long margin account, mumble-jumble that was still rattling around my brain.
I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself, that I had missed passing by just a few questions. I stopped myself and started looking at the variety of people in the establishment, the tattoo parlor.
Let me try to describe the cast of characters. The latina with a muffin top getting a "Hello Kitty" tattooed on part of the muffin and her boyfriend. The heavy-set guy that looked like Shaggy from Scooby Do getting the massive scene on his back completed (it looked like it was a cross between asian art and a nightmare - art is very subjective). There was the 18 yr old guy getting his first and in obvious pain with all his buddies there to support him. The thug-looking guy getting "ten-?" (I couldn't see what it was since the artist was working on that section) in 5 inch bold letters on his stomach. And finally the lady with the wild hair getting her lower lip pierced.
And why is it that all tattoo artists have a tattoo sleeve on one of their arms? It was definitely busier than I thought it would be for a Tuesday at 4pm.
Then the thought came to me that these places of business never really go by the old name of a "Tattoo Parlor" anymore, do they? That brings up visions of an old smoke filled room with lots of shady characters glancing about, hoping no one sees them in such a seedy place.
I noticed the mirror in front of me and snapped this shot with the cell phone. My mood was lifting and my mind was clearing. Thank God!
Who knows, maybe one of those people who were there are blogging about their experience. God, how would they be describing me?