There was a time that I could be pretty sure - that at any given time , I was the only tattooist on a plane flight or at a baseball game or at parent- teacher school open house.
That if I met another tattooist at such an event it would be like meeting a former schoolmate while vacationing in a foreign land. What are the odds of that?
I remember a time that I could tell , just by looking , that someone did what I did and we shared a common bond and if you spotted one another at an amusement park or a mall- you knew one or the other of you had travelled out of your own territory.
There was a time when introduced into the life of a child that they would remember you, for the rest of their lives as the tattooed man or lady.
There was a time that when responding that I was a tattooer, when asked what I did for a living - was met with the same awe, disbelief or astonishment as if I had answered that I was an alligator wrestler, an astronaut or in the French Foreign Legion.
That was a great time!