This isn't preferential treatment, but I blew a tire once on I-95N and pulled into the PA Welcome Station to wait for a towtruck. (someone had borrowed my jack).
I was sitting by the car grumpy, and this older gent came up and started hitting me up. Given that it was a rest stop, I assumed he wanted a little roadside fun and cold shouldered him a bit... until he showed me his full DON FUCKING NOLAN backpiece that he got back in the day. We ended up talking for two hours, traded info and all that, but I never heard back from him. Shame I never got pics.
I always said tattoos were passports; sometimes they take you to Tahiti to sit on the beach and lounge and sometimes they take you to some god forsaken hellhole, but if you sign up for an adventure, you're likely to get it.