After being picked up from the party, we headed for the tattoo parlor. Approaching every traffic light, I secretly hoped it would turn red to give me time to think. I held the piece of paper to the window in an attempt to catch light from the street lamps. The objects of my attention were six small pictures. Six options. Six permanent brandings to choose from.
While each represented something meaningful, none of them jumped out at me as I hoped one would. The longer I stared the greater I doubted my decision to get a tattoo.
There were three different Batman symbols on the page. The first was the long traditional Batman symbol in the yellow oval. I had also chosen a rare take on the symbol that I really liked from the Dark Knight graphic novel series. Lastly was the newer Batman symbol from the latest movies. I grew up loving everything about Batman and spent many hours in many makeshift Batcaves pretending to be the caped crusader. Not only did this choice represent my most cherished childhood memories and one of my last relevant links to childhood, but it would serve as a reminder of the bonding my father and I shared for the world of comics.
The fourth image was a piece from the game of RISK. Just before my grandfather died, he bought the board game to play with my cousin and me. We only played once before we buried him with a horse piece in his casket. We chose the horse because he loved stallions so much. Obvious emotional ties there. Plus, in my opinion, that tattoo would be a less chiche tribute to a dead relative than a cross.
The fifth was an Irish clover with the Italian flag pattern within. I’m Irish, I’m Italian. Simple enough.
The sixth was the graffiti tag “El Barto” from The Simpsons. Aside from being my favorite series ever, the show inspired me to go into comedy.
All good and bad choices at the same time. After a party, it was hard enough to focus.
As we pulled up, I turned to my girlfriend at the time and told her I changed my mind. I simply wasn’t ready to get a tattoo. We were supposed to get them together, so she asked if I wouldn’t mind waiting as she got hers.
We strolled in below the neon sign of Island Tattoo, and I felt relieved that I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.
I sat in the waiting room as my girlfriend discussed her ink-inspirations and I glanced around the room at all the strange tattoos around me. I remember one guy had a sheep pointing a gun at a man holding a pair of shears. I didn’t realize I was sitting with my tattoo sheet unfolded and a man spied my choices.
“Sick tats, man. You gonna get all of them?”
“Huh? Oh…no. I don’t think I’ll be getting a tattoo tonight. These were my what I narrowed my options to, though.”
My sheet in his hands, he continued the conversation without looking away from it. “What’s the matter? Can’t decide on just one?”
“No, actually…” I trailed off. What a terrible time for my machismo to kick in. Afraid to admit I chickened out, I spit out the sentence that would serve as the inciting incident for my first tattoo. “I came here all stoked to get one of these, but the place is closing soon. I’ll just have to come back another time.”
“Yo, dude. I’m an artist here. Let me clock back in, start up my station, and we’ll get you ink’d up!”
“Oh, no. Please, I really don’t mind coming back.”
“Nonsense. I love my job, bro! It’s time to take that V-card!”
As I heard the stamping of what sounded like a shift clock, I searched my mind in desperation for a good excuse.
“Yeah, but I really can’t choose one!”
Alright, well let’s talk about this. You want my honest opinion? I think this Batman tat would be SICK. Best superhero ever.”
I felt my guard drop a notch. “Really? You think it would be cool?”
“Hell yeah, man. Everybody loves the Dark Knight. So where do you wanna get it?” he asked as he took the paper into the back room.
As if I were possessed, I felt myself say “right shoulder, on the back.”
“Sweet. Great spot. I’ll be right back. Why don’t you sit up on that chair right there?”
Shirtless on the leather seat, I felt a wave of fear overtaking me. Was I really about to do this?
The artist was back sooner than expected. “Hey the machine is almost done rendering the picture. Excited?”
“Actually, I’m not so sure about this.”
His expression went from thrilled to despondent. “Dude, really? I’m clocked in, the machine’s going, my station’s set up. I’m all excited to give you this badass ink! You really gonna back out now?”
This guy was the most manipulative tattoo artist I’ve ever met. Then again, I hadn’t met many. “Alright, let’s do it.”
“That’s the spirit! Let me go wash up.” I took a few deep breaths and looked up to see a very large figure in the doorway. Captain Guilt Trip was looking over his shoulder. “Hey my man, it turns out I actually gotta run. But my buddy Pete here is gonna take real good care of you. He owns the place. Good luck! I’ll do your next tattoo for sure.”
The man who singlehandedly peer pressured me into getting a tattoo wasn’t even going to stick around and finish the deed. Pete was a big man with a silvery ponytail. He had tattoo artist written all over him. Right down to the red and white bandana. The only thing that didn’t fit was his soft, friendly voice. “Hey dude, I’m Pete. You sure you don’t want me to make this thing bigger?”
“No! That’ll be fine, Pete.” A little late to prove myself impervious to peer pressure.
As the machine started up, I accepted that my fate was sealed. I had actually been guilted into getting a tattoo.
“Babe, what are you doing?” Maybe not all was lost! I had actually forgotten my girlfriend was there and now she arrived to save the day. “So you decided to get a tattoo after all?”
“Sort of…” I tried my hardest to send an S.O.S. with my eyes. My heart sank as I watched her confusion turn into delight.
“Great! Which one are you getting?” Pete showed her as he dipped his needle into black ink. “I love that one! It’s gonna look so hot. I’ll be in the next room getting ready for mine. I want the heart with musical note through it!”
The moment Pete touched the needle to my shoulder blade, every bone in my body rumbled in what felt like rebellion. Somehow the pain was more and less intense than I had anticipated.
A few minutes of daydreaming passed by when it was interrupted by Pete telling a customer about a growth that had developed near his groin.
“It’s terribly painful. Roughly the size of a grapefruit. I have to go get the sucker drained tomorrow.”
That lovely thought paired with the sight of a paper towel soaked in my blood tossed into a biohazard container made me a bit queasy. Needless to say I was eager to leave.
When he finished up, I handed over the $50 and offered a twenty buck tip.
“Hey, what are you? In college? Thanks, but you need that. Take care, kid. Come back any time for a free touch up.”
I thought to myself “Thanks, do you do free removals?” While I sincerely appreciated his generosity, I would have preferred the no pressure approach about an hour earlier. I found my girlfriend smiling in the waiting room.
“Hey! How do you feel?”
I shrugged.
“Well I’ve got mine all figured out but I can’t get it done until tomorrow.”
A feeling of dread came over me. I got what she came to get. Maybe I should have gone in with my heart set on getting a tattoo…
She grabbed my hand as we headed for the door. I held the door and passed under that neon sign 50 dollars poorer and forever branded a comic book geek.
Somehow, I don’t think Bruce Wayne’s decision to become Batman was the result of peer pressure.
