Let me take you back to a rebellious week I had back when I was 18. It took place all over St. Johns during a week off from school. I think it was in March, so I was going to be turning 19 in a few weeks and wanted to do some more illegal stuff before I came of legal age.
Pugey had already gotten me a ticket to The Queens of the Stone Age concert at Mile One. That was my first concert in there and it was amazing, but you can read that in another story.
One of my best friends, Caitlin, was in town from Labrador. We had decided to get tattoos. Tattoos are very permanent answers to a short time rebellion but we were ready for the commitment.
First, I made the appointment with Exotic Body Works. I had never heard of this place and neither had any of my friends. They warned me about going to an unknown tattoo parlor but obviously I knew more than they did. Caitlin is from Labrador and they are more used to sketchy situations in the tattoo department than me, the tattoo virgin.
Some info about my parents: they are really cool and love to go drinking and party but they are totally against tattoos and piercings. So, I chose not to mention my little appointment.
Our appointment was the day after the concert. It’s not an understatement to say that I got loaded at that concert. I woke up the next morning and didn’t even remember that we had gone downtown afterwards. This was back in the day when I got hangovers, something that, in my years of experience, I have learned to avoid.
I went to the mall to buy some tank tops and meet Caitlin. This is how hung over I was: I bought tank tops because I was getting my tattoo on my back. When I got to the tattoo place, I took of my sweater to realize that I already had on the tank top I had been wearing the night before. While I was at the mall, I drank some tea and a bite of a croissant. Then, at 2:30, we called a cab to bring us to Exotic Body Works.
The cabbie didn’t even know where it was. We knew that it was in CBS, somewhere. We drove around forever, my stomach rolling as I tried to look out the window to find this tiny little place.
We finally got there. It was a shitty little building in a gravel parking lot. We thought it was closed. The windows were boarded up, the paint was peeling. We didn’t care, we went right in. I left my tank tops in the cab by accident.
The inside was better. It was clean. There were pictures everywhere of tattoos. When we complained about the $40 cab ride, the guy who owned the place called the cab company and FLIPPED. We were freaked but we got a free cab ride back out of it.
After picking out a couple of tattoos, I was chosen to go first. By this time, my hangover was almost gone and I was feeling at least less shaky. I sat down backwards in the computer chair and tattoo guy straddled me so he could tattoo my back shoulder. His wife settled in for a chat. They were pretty cool, moved here from California. They were both super tattooed.
I was fine for awhile but I have this thing: I’m a fainter. I faint if I get hurt, if I don’t eat for awhile, pretty much everything. I started to get tunnel vision but fought against it. I stopped trying to take part in the conversation. Usually, I can fight against it if I know it’s coming but my hangover combined with a tiny needle piercing me over and over was too much. Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and staring up at tattoo guy, who smiled and said “Bet you don’t wake up in a strangers arms every day.” I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to throw up.
Usually, I’m a giant wimp. This time, I had a half colored peony on my shoulder and it was not the time to wimp out. I marched back out, drank a Diet Coke, downed a bag of chips and took up my position in the chair.
The rest of the appointment went by pretty smoothly. Caitlin was terrified but I forced her to join the Tattooed. I went back to Pugey’s with Saran wrap taped to my back and fell into a small coma of hungoverness until he got home.
A year later, mom found out about my tattoo. I was lying on my bed on my stomach. She flipped out a little but mostly she liked it. Do I regret getting a tattoo at a sketchy place while half drunk? Nope! I still love that tattoo!
Some Shockin' Good