I did a bad thing

It’s been 6 years since I got my first tattoo. Then a few months later I got my second. Always thought about the next but never really pressed the issue. Until now.

I’m not a tattoo guy in the traditional sense. I see ink on others and I don’t judge, but I wonder what their thoughts were in some of their choices. Others that I see I am amazed in everything… the color, the design, the location… a living work on flesh. There can be true beauty in a tattoo.

I remember my first time in a tattoo parlor. I was 17 or 18. Mr. Wizards on Colfax. Not the East Colfax that was (and somewhat still) the the armpit of Denver. The “clean” side of the tracks. There were no actual tracks, and it wasn’t all that clean. The shop was dark and smoky, and the walls covered with flash. There were binders filled with works to flip through. And the sound of buzzing could not be denied.

Jim and Brad were my long time school buddies. I’ve known Jim since 3rd or 4th grade. Brad since 7th or 8th. Jim was ready for his first tattoo and Mr. Wizards was where we ended up. There was lots of discussion. Lots of page flipping… everything from Mom hearts, roses, ships anchors, all the basic goodies for a first time tattoo. I’m fairly certain the budget did not allow for too much fancy. (don’t hold me to it, but I do remember, both Brad and I chipping in a few bucks cause we were all mostly broke).

My memory is also fuzzy on this but I might have agreed to come back the next month and get the exact same tattoo, He decided on a skull, in a top hat, with a monocle. Pretty rad first tattoo if ask me. 30 min later we all walked out the door a bit wiser. Jim’s first tattoo was the most rebellious thing we could have done. It was his skin not mine but I felt just as proud, and just as guilty. I never went back for mine.