Now I'm not sure what Guardian angel was watching over me that day as I walked into a fairly rough and tumble, Hell's Angels endorsed tattoo shop, but it was a good one.
I walked in without any clue as to what I was doing. If I'd known then what I know now I'd have never gone into 'THAT' shop but it was a happy accident for me that I did. All I knew was that I was getting a tattoo. It was my independance and I was not leaving until I had something.
On the way over I had decided that I would get a little flower. I didn't have a lot of money and I wasn't sure about the pain thing an how I was going to feel about it after I'd gotten it so I was trying to play it safe. Small flower, on lowback/butt and I would be good.
There were several people being worked on when I entered. I was surprised by the loud buzzing from the machines. I was VERY nervous but I'm brass and bravado when I have to be and tried to act casual and like I knew what I was doing. I didn't but I was determined and for me that is usually all it takes.
I starting to look over all of the little pictures on the walls, I later learned the proper term is FLASH, in search of the little flower that was going to adorn my ass for the rest of time. It was going to be a tough choice.
I didn't just want just any crappy flower and I'd already developed the opinion that roses were WAY over done. Hell almost EVERYONE had a rose on their ass. Pass thanks. I was looking for something not so usual.
It was only a minute or so before I heard a soft voice ask if I needed help. When I turned around I found myself staring into a chest; a very well chiseled chest. It was attached to huge arms. The bicepts were easily as big as my head and as I looked waaayyy up I saw the face of a very classical looking latino man.
OK, fine, who are we kidding. I turned around and almost ran into this giant Mexican guy that could have popped my head like bubblewrap and my first thought was 'Oh, SHIT! I'm Dead.' I know. Bad me... but he was really big and I was really little and the immediate reaction was that running would be a good alternative to standing there. Frankie would laugh his ass off if he knew.
But fortunately Bunnie's are made of tougher stuff so I explained to him what I wanted. He was very nice and had a very gentle manner, spoke softly and after a minute or two I got over my jitters and was back to feeling coonfident about getting my flower. Until he tried to talk me out of it...
I know, crazy, huh? He's a tattooer, I'm money standing there and he tried to talk me out of getting tattooed at least 4 times while I was choosing the flash, confiming the details and placement, and arranging for the color (because I thought the pink on the wall sucked and purple and green were my colors). He even asked one last time, after he was all geared up to be sure I wanted to go ahead. I thought he was looking out for the customer, I found out later it's because he thought I looked really soft and I was going to freak out as soon as the needle hit my hip.
Then I made myself the best friend ever. He satrted asking about color, highlights and a few other things. I already knew which flower, where it was going and what the basic color was going to be so I looked at him and said, "Honey, I don't know. You're the artist, do what you think is going to look best!"
I don't think anyone had put that kind of trust in his judgement before and he ran with it. It was the smartes thing I ever said and a motto I stuck with for the rest of my pieces. Trust your artist to do their job.
Fortunately for me this giant Aztec god of tattooing really was an ARTIST. We've gone on to do a number of pieces and I have been thhrilled with every one of them. Plus it started a great friendship that has lasted through a half dozen shop moves on his part and twice that many bumps on the road of life for me. But those are other stories...