Me and six of my buddies went in to the only shop in town at the time, and it was every stereotype you had ever heard. The guy who owned it, was hanging out in there with his friend, and in come me and my friends who are 18 at the time. In hindsight, I'm pretty sure I was the only one who really wanted a tattoo, but 3 of my other friends went through with it. They definitely tried to intimidate us with our questions like "is it safe?" to which they said "yeah, we always wipe the needle off when we pull it out of the junkie" I got a terribly done rose on my thigh, one of my friends passed out after getting the outline of the smallest 4 leaf clover you ever saw. He wanted to quit but they wouldn't let him. In the middle of one of the tattoos, the sound of a bunch of motorcycles comes roaring down the road. The guy tattooing puts down his machine, draws a pistol from his person, and tells his buddy to get the shotgun from the back. They both run outside with guns drawn, while me and my friends are laughing and terrified at the same time. I don't think it was an act by these guys, I think they were seriously paranoid. The bikes just kept going down the road, never even slowed down, and they came back inside, and finished the tattoos. This was on Long Island in 1991. I thought it made for a memorable first tattoo.
Hey Irezumi, I remember a girl named Margureite from Peter tat2 who supposedly was the shit. I got tattooed by a girl named Cindy there in '92, and a guy named Brett who I just found out is back in NYC now.