Slinging Ink

August, 2010

Starting some time in high school, I’d always wanted a tattoo.  I believe tattoo artists are just that, artists.  The creations they can lay down on skin is mind-blowing.  I didn’t want something too big or fancy, just something cool. 

When I was in college, there were a lot of Canadians that crossed the border to play sports at UMich (because Canada didn’t offer college sports scholarships – I know, dumb, right?), and almost all of the Canadian runners on the cross country/track team had a sweet tattoo of a maize and blue block “M” inside of a red Canadian maple leaf.  To this day, I am disappointed that I wasn’t born in Canada, so I could have gotten the sweetest tattoo ever.

On a related note, at some point early on during my freshman year in college, I realized that not only did the cross-country runners say “Very Nice!” a lot, but the two words were stitched on a lot of their warm-up gear.  So I went up to the cross-country coach (who was in his mid-50s at the time) and asked him why everyone said “Very Nice!” all of the time.  In response, he turned around, dropped his pants, and there was a “Very Nice!” tattoo staring back at me.

That was exactly what I wanted:  Something that would either stand the test of time for having a special meaning, or would become a legendary rallying cry for future generations of runners.   What I didn’t want was to get a random Japanese character on my shoulder, or a tribal arm band, just for the sake of getting a tattoo (no offense to anyone reading this who has one of those.  I’m sure it’s awesome!)

By the time I reached 30 and still hadn’t figured out what to get, I just assumed my window was closing pretty fast and it wasn’t my destiny to have a tattoo.  But the universe has a way sometimes...on January 13, 2010, my first-born daughter decided Heaven was way better than this place and thought she would go do some advance scouting for us.  We found out she wasn’t going to make it September and it was only a matter of weeks before I first had the thought that I would get a tattoo in her memory.  After she passed away, I decided I wanted a cross with wings coming out of it on my shoulder. 

But who should do it?  When you’re 31 and work in a professional field, this isn’t a decision that should be taken lightly.  If the artist screws up or does a crappy job, you can’t exactly blame it on too much alcohol while in college.

We were planning a trip to California in August, and I figured why not just go to Kat Van D’s shop in LA that is featured on the TLC show LA Ink.  I would be assured a good artist from a cool shop, and that would give me plenty of time to make sure it was something I really wanted.  But like any good show, television reality and reality are not the same thing.  High Voltage Tattoo (the real name of the shop) does not have their telephone number available anywhere, their tattoo artists do not reply to e-mails, and they have horrible customer service reviews.  Not exactly the vibe I wanted for my first (and only?) tattoo.

After poking around on-line, Body Electric in Hollywood had glowing reviews, their Website was pretty cool, and most importantly, they have a phone number where someone picks up the phone and actually answers all of your questions in a friendly manner! (Shocking, I know.)

The day finally arrived and as we were making the couple of hour drive from my sister-in-law’s house in Irvine to Hollywood, I wasn’t nervous about the pain.  I figured I knew some real wussy people who had tattoos in more painful spots than the shoulder, so how bad could it be? (In hindsight, all of those people must have been drunk out of their mind.)  My biggest fear was two-fold:  1) the design wouldn’t come out right, and 2) there would be an earthquake while the needle was in my arm.

We arrived at the shop right after it opened on a Monday, so it wasn’t hopping, but the vibe was outstanding.  The place was spotless and the people there were very friendly and encouraging to this tattoo virgin.  In fact, the place was so chill and inviting that while we were waiting for the artist to finish up my tattoo design, the little lady actually uttered the words “Maybe I’ll get one.”  A minute later she heard the high-vibration needle for the first time.  Just as quickly as the thought had entered her head, it was gone.

To me, the most nerve-racking thing in life is the first time a judge asks you a question in front of your client that you don’t know the answer to.  But the first time a needle full of ink gets plunged into your body is a close second.  Thankfully, our artist was a quiet, unassuming dude who went about his work professionally and efficiently.

It took about three hours to finish the artwork and five hours at the shop in total.  After the first few minutes, I just got into a zone while he worked, and the pain was present but very tolerable.  It’s a sharp pain while the needle runs along your skin, but they only do a few seconds at a time.  The worst part is sitting still for that long, and it gets a little tedious knowing you are so close to the end but can’t move yet.  For about 24 hours afterwards, it felt about the same as a rug burn, and then there was zero pain after that (My favorite part about the whole experience was that for about a month afterwards, every time I would get a chill or shiver down my spine, the frayed nerve endings at the tattoo location would light up like a Christmas tree and give me a jolt.  I know, I’m weird.)

But here’s the thing people without a tattoo don’t realize – a new tattoo is nothing more than a giant, open flesh wound.  You can see what the finished product looks like right after he finished, but then it turns into a scabby, flaky, itchy mess for two weeks while it heals.  During which time the tattoo is barely unrecognizable and you wonder what you have done to your body.

Once my skin healed, I loved how the design came out and I don’t regret it for a second (although to be honest, it’s not exactly small).  Everyone always asks me if I’m going to get another one?  My standard reply right after I got it was, “I hope not, because it took quite a tragedy for me to get this one.”  But now that I’ve had it for six months, well…