Tramp Stamp…N’Awlin’s Style

Well, I did it.  I got a tattoo.  Sending a huge thanks to everyone who weighed in on whether I should get one or not in To Tattoo Or Not.  It was icing on the cake.  The experience was great, memorable, and painful.  The pain was to be expected.

Colby and I landed in New Orleans Friday afternoon and grabbed a bite to eat at Acme Oyster House and then plopped our fannies down at the Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone.  We didn’t talk much about the tattoo.  I knew Colby still wasn’t thrilled, but he was being incredibly supportive.  Dinner at Mr. B’s Bistro…where I had the most amazing Shrimp & Grits of my life…but how can you go wrong with shrimp, bacon, cream and butter?  No wonder I felt like a Beluga whale when I got home.

The next morning dawned and we got dressed and headed over to Café du Monde for beignets and café au lait.  But there was a little problem.  There were 24,000 Lutheran youths in the city and I swear they were all in line for Café du Monde.  I have been going there for years and I have never seen the line so long.  OK, on to Plan B.  We ended up having a great N’Awlins style breakfast…but again, how can you go wrong with Tabasco?

The countdown was on.  As I watched the minutes click away, my anxiety level started to rise.  I was excited and very secure with my decision, but that didn’t make the butterflies in my stomach any smaller.  After a little shopping, we started walking to Electric Ladyland, a very popular and reputable tattoo parlor on the fringes of the French Quarter.

It was strait up noon and I was the first patron in the door.  I chose the pattern I wanted out of a book filled with Fleur de Lis patterns.  I waited until one spoke to me, and on the very last page, there it was.  I talked about shading and placement and was shown one of the artist’s arms so I would understand how it would look in the end.  I paid my money in cash, was told to wait until the artist was ready and I took a seat.

Colby was still by my side.  Another couple came in.  The sat down across from me.  They were more of the tattoo type than me and seemed to be more comfortable in this very eclectic environment.  Once again, I was the odd bird in a sea of tattooed flesh.  With my blond pixie cut, white capris, lavender tank top with a mardi gras colored scarf, diamonds flashing, I was a bit out of place.  The reactions were similar to the time I got my first tattoo.  Evidently I am SO not the tattoo type.

The man across from me had his ears pierced with big, round studs that create a hole in the ear.  I had always wondered how that worked.  So I asked.  He explained how it all worked, with a thick N’Awlins drawl and amusement in his voice.  It passed a few minutes while I waited.

Finally a very normal looking man came out and asked who was getting the Fleur de Lis tattoo.  He looked my way and asked if the woman with the petrified face was the one.  I took offence to that.  I wasn’t petrified, perhaps a little anxiety ridden, but not petrified.  He took me back to his table and we got started.  As he began to work, we started the normal chitchat.  He had a few tattoos on his forearms, but he wasn’t covered with them like most of the artists.  His hair was cut clean and short and he had a polo shirt on.  If I didn’t look like the tattoo type, he didn’t look the part of a tattoo artist.  He was form New York, had been a New Orleans police officer and was married to an attorney.  I guess that just goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover.

I had three tattoos before I decided to get a Fleur de Lis…one pink ribbon and two nipples.  None of them really ever hurt when I got them.  Yes, I felt some pain, but no big deal.  They also didn’t cause me problems when they were healing.  This one is different.  It hurt from the moment he touched it with the tattoo gun, it ached afterwards, it swelled up, it hurt to have clothes touch it, and it has itched like there is no tomorrow.  One night I was sort of complaining to Colby, knowing I had no justification to complain.  He told me that my other tattoos had always taken place in “the zone.”  The zone was related to my breast cancer where nerves were cut and permanently damaged.  My new tattoo wasn’t.  It was a “full on tattoo.”

As I watched my tattoo take shape on my ankle and tried not to make too many faces, I began to gain new respect for all of the people who choose to decorate their bodies with tattoos and the artists that create them.  It isn’t something I would ever consider…I’m done getting tattoos, but it is an art.  It is a craft that requires true artistry and patience.  I enjoyed the time I spent at Electric Ladyland.  Everyone there made me feel welcome even if I didn’t look like I fit in.  I got what I came for…a true souvenir from New Orleans, one that I will have for the rest of my life.