A few weeks ago, my friend and I decided to get our ears pierced. She wanted a rook piercing, and I wanted the helix. We were both operating under the assumption that any tattoo parlor would do. Turned out it wasn’t so. We called a few tattoo parlors, and were met with :”We’re a TATTOO parlor. We don’t do piercings.” Finally, we narrowed down our options to three locations.
Hello, do you do piercings?
Yes. But our piercer isn’t in today.
Okay. Is he/she going to be in tomorrow?
Well I hope so!
Nevertheless, we found another location that had reasonably good reviews. After work on Friday, we drove to the tattoo/piercing parlor, and waited at the front desk after we signed our release forms. A rather large gentleman stood next to us, and struck up a conversation with me.
So, you here for a tattoo?
No, just a cartilage piercing.
Oh yea? Well I’m here to check out my tattoo sketches. I want a ring of skulls around my neck.
And mind you, these were skulls that were the size of a fist each. Around his neck. To each his own, I guess.
Yea, and I just bought this really awesome gun. Here, let me show you how awesome it is.
Apparently, this guy totes his gun in a mini briefcase around town. He retrieved it from its carrying case, and shoved this revolver in my hand. I was speechless. Images of the mafia playing Russian roulette came to mind.
Isn’t that the most awesome gun you’ve ever seen?
Uh, yea. Well, I don’t know much about guns. But it’s very nice. Here.
And then I handed it back to him, tout suite.
The artist behind the counter saw the exchange, and chimed in.
Are we showing off our guns now? Cool. Hold on a second, let me get mine.
Then he proceeded to open his drawers to show us his gun. Now there are not one, but two guns within 2 feet of my personal bubble.
Guy number three walked up to the counter. Somehow all three men got into a pissing contest over how much upper body art they possessed. In one felt whoop, all three men disrobed and showed off their rather rotund upper bodies for our admiration.
My friend and I, at this point, were staring wide-eyed at each other, communicating telepathically.
Where the hell are we??
So revolver guy carried on the conversation, as if shoving a gun at a girl and baring his torso were the most normal things in the world.
You’re not a real man if you don’t drive a dachshund.
Excuse me? Huh? A dog?
I must have given him a really confused look.
No, a Datsun. I have one, just downstairs.
I had no idea wtf that was. I assumed it was some type of a muscle car. I also assumed that he was trying to assure me of his masculine prowess.
Nodding politely, we edged further and further away to a corner of the parlor and split like grease on wheels immediately after we got our piercings. Major ouch, btw.
And that, is how a simple ear piercing excursion turned into a whole can of WTFs.