I posted something about this in the intro forum, but I figure it's more appropriate here.
I first met Mike Wilson when I was a teenager. I think 16. He was a few years older and not yet tattooing. We became friendly, and as he moved from apprentice to tattooer and I moved from little pieces to big, he started doing the occasion piece on me.
My second tattoo from him was a back piece. Outlined and shaded in one bigass session.
But years later.... after I moved to Philly.. Mike did my foot.
He was guesting at Kadillac tattoo and dropped his business card in my mail slot when he got into town. (Not much of a texter back then, apparently. hah)
So I head up to Kadillac and we decide to do a Free Mason monkey with banana pentagram on my foot. He draws it on, Eric closes up the shop and heads home.
He's about 3/4 of the way done when he realizes theres no more nitrile gloves left in his box. Or in the shop.
It's after midnight, and there's no drug stores open to buy new gloves.
And I'm very allergic to latex. Like hospital allergic.
So we're racing the clock to finish the tattoo without having to change gloves one last time. We discuss finishing it the next time he visits. We discuss what would happen if he wore a latex glove.
Finally... when changing gloves became an absolute necessity...
We wrapped the fuck out of his hand with paper towels and prayed to god I hadn't made any bad lifestyle choices in the last few months.
15 years of friendship made us a little more comfortable with the bad idea that we were doing.