Wherein Eddie Loses His (Tattoo) Virginity
I’ve been wanting to get a tattoo for three or four years now but never really had the means/opportunity.
I decided to get one in Providence this year before I left (I’ll be going to Peru over the summer, making me an ineligible tissue donor for a few years, so I figured I may as well stack on the disqualifiers. Also, there’s a point I want to make about MSMs not being able to donate tissue, but that’s a rant for a different story.)
I finished finals a few days ago, so I figured now would be the perfect time. I did some research and looked into a couple local parlors.
I had some very awkward, unwelcoming vibes at almost all of them EXCEPT for the one that I had discounted from the get go. (It’s right near campus, and I mistakenly assumed it’d be a hot mess of a shop.)
Holy hell, Providence Tattoo and Steve, my artist, were fuckin’ phenomenal.
I walked in yesterday evening, got a consult, and set up an appointment for earlier tonight.
Upon walking in today, I was greeted with a smile and paperwork. (Steve assembled needles and whatnot as I signed and initialed all over the place.)
We adjusted a few more things, then we were off!
About two hours later, I now have this beauty!
Also, it didn’t hurt all that bad! Until he hit the top of a rib. That hurt. But was awesome.
I wanted a crane in flight because a crane (which are not native to my part of the country) has landed in my yard, next to my car, in front of me, etc. the day before/of any event that has powerfully altered the course of my life. Getting a crane is an embodiment and inscription of the power of direction and guidance in my life. Further, getting the crane is an internalization of that guidance.
Steve did a fuckin’ incredible job, and I couldn’t be happier.
(And, although I thought the crane would be my first/last, I’m planning on getting a phoenix soon. Turns out tattoos are addictive.)