Once upon a time, when I was a young dumbass, I got my tongue pierced at Peacock's which was then located on Merrill Rd. I don't remember much of the experience except the girl who pierced me was very nice and I felt bad for her because she later encountered my mother at Target who said to her, "You must be the one who pierced my daughter's tongue." How my mom managed to assume correctly that this was THE girl who was guilty of defiling her child, was (and still is) beyond my understanding of the natural order of things. I think mothers develop some sort of sixth sense that enables them to innately identify anything that threatens to expose their children as anything other than the upstanding citizens of the world who they tried to raise them to be.
Let's fast forward 13 years. I'm still a dumbass. I still have the tongue ring. I used to have an eyebrow ring. And I just recently got my 3rd tattoo. That 3rd tattoo was done at Peacock's (now on the corner of Beach and St. John's Bluff). The front of the shop has comfortable couches and lots of flash to browse through. The back (where the magic happens) was clean and the walls were covered with fantastically dark paintings, i.e. skulls, alien creatures, and the bride of Frankenstein who stared down at me the entire time. I wanted to get a phoenix on my arm and I was paired up with Shannon, the tattoo artist, to make it happen. I first met Shannon the week before, when I set up the appointment, and he seemed a bit humorless and more than a little condescending, so I wasn't sure if this was going to work. But, he redeemed himself by making sure I was comfortable and engaging me and my small entourage of friends in conversation, including answering a bunch of questions that I'm sure he's heard a million times. The posse was there only because none of them had ever seen a tattoo made in real life, not because I needed moral support, I swear. And I think they were also secretly hoping that I would cry. Which I didn't, thank you very much.
For those who have never had a tattoo, here's what happens. Your choice body part is shaven, then sanitized. Then a transfer medium is rubbed on you which is followed by a stencil. Then the tattoo gun starts buzzing and your choice body part gets set on fire. Just kidding - it's not that bad. People seem to want to know what a tattoo feels like. At its best, it feels like repeated light pinching. At its worst, it feels like a bunch of needles being stuck into you over and over again. It is what it is. The only teeth-gritting times were when he was working on my shoulder and during the tail end of the 3rd hour when I was getting sore, tired of sitting and hungry.
So, anyway, 3 hours later, I was left with a lovely and colorful phoenix on my arm. Shannon turned out to be an honest and decent guy and the price he charged was fair. All in all, a productive way to spend the 4th of July. read more