Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most… New York has missing pieces of my memory buried in her blanket of billboards, bright lights and broken glass… The end of the weekend had a very Fear-and-Loathing-in-Las-Vegas feel to it… There are cell phone camera-flashes, and small chunks of larger events replaying in a non-descriptive manner in my mind. I can recall middle pieces that have no end and beginnings that have no middle or ending… They only thing I’m 100 percent positive on; I had a good time… I think? [Video on expanded page]
Friday was a special day, Friday the 13th. Friday the 13th has become a kind of pseudo-holiday in the tattoo world and I am a big fan of participating. The trouble was, would we (Kent, Crash and myself) find time to, how they say…. “git er dun.” Oooo… that’s a terrible way to put it… but let’s move onward.
This was my third straight NYC show, and I have to say that every year I do this show I meet a ton of cool people, this year was no exception. Adam Hays and everyone at Red Rocket Tattoo were really amazing and they helped us out big-time all weekend.
So it seems fitting that they were hosting the Friday after-party at the shop, and Team TAM had to represent and show our appreciation as well. But keep in mind, it’s Friday the 13th, W.W.O.P.D. (What Would Oliver Peck Do?) And then this mental image of Oliver comes to mind… “Let’s do some tats,” toothpick flaring, as he claps his hands together.
I really don’t know how it started… all I know is I was hanging in the lobby of the shop and then Crash runs, nay, charges over towards me and tells me to get my video camera ready. I guess he had somehow convinced Dave Waugh to hand-poke 13s on Crash, Kent and myself… Okay… W.W.O.P.D.
The following video is a prime example of what NOT to do after 13 beers… but I guess that depends on who you ask?(Disclaimer: Hey kids, Dave Waugh is a professional tattoo artist. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME! Each tattoo was done with a brand new sterile needle and new ink…etc.)
So, yeah… I hate the sound of my own voice… I’m an idiot. I’m really glad the video camera stayed in my pocket for the rest of the weekend.
Saturday. Saturday… Saturday: *insert white noise static, ears ringing and eyes burning here* Fade to black…
Sunday, “Where the fuck am I?” I would love to explain, trust me, I would… I simply can’t remember. Although, I am thoroughly convinced I was drugged… especially after I made to the booth the next day and found out the girl in the booth next to the TAM booth was Roofied and found by security in the women’s restroom passed out on the floor, and then my buddy Schumitz from Germany said he lost his mind Saturday night and decided it would be a cool idea to just sprint through Times Square for 20 minutes while his friends tried to stop him!
Thanks to everyone at the NYC convention and all the people we met including Dave Waugh, Dana Dynamite, Bill Salmon, Kent’s buddy Jonathon (who let us trash his apartment in Brooklyn while we were there) and everyone at Red Rocket Tattoo, good luck with the move and may the Force be with you! Sorry, if I have forgotten anyone… but if you read the first sentence of this thread perhaps you’ll empathize with Mark Twain and I?