Pirates, Piers, and Piercing

When faced with a plan that had devolved to involve modern-day pirate types in the mainstreet equivalent of a darkened navy pier, what was a young artist to do? Yep. Get Dad. Egad!

You see, our artist had finally secured authorization to have her upper-ear cartilage pierced to add a bit of spiral flair to her head -- only to find they now only do lobes in the safety of the Mall. "For cartilage? You'd have to go to a tattoo parlor for that ... "

Now, Mom had been okay with the Mall -- but she wasn't likely to take on a tattoo parlor, so the 17-year-0ld in need of parental consent did the only thing she could think of. She turned to Dad.

While the "shirt & tie" is a costume for a role, realistically, I only relate to the underworld's romance from afaaar and simply don't travel in the "tattoo parlor" circles ... So, I did what any Dad without a clue would do -- I asked my stylist at my Salon for advice ...

Tracy sent me to Sarah's Tattoos (they don't do piercings) who sent me to Yankee Tattoos (they don't work on anyone under 18, no exceptions) who sent me to Body Art Tattoos & Piercings ... Visiting the first was delightfully entertaining (Sarah's sweet, in a rough kind of way -- like rock candy) ... calling the second was surprisingly professional (like calling a swirl of a doctor's office and art gallery) ... and the third? Well ... calling Body Art was a bit like calling a pirate ship docked at a darkened navy pier somewhere off the sinister bowels of a waterfront wharf's back alleys ... Gruff voices. Brusk answers. Background chaos. Condescending use of the term "dude" ... Egad.

Refusing to be detered, I double checked the plan with a trendy graphic designer down there and that Saturday, after a photo wander-off, I met up with Em on Main Street in Burlington outside Body Art. She gleefully gathered her resolve and in we went. Em waded through the crowd in the lobby -- a woman who wondered if the ball under her lower lip was too big and looked ridiculous (it was and it did), a woman who wanted her child's footprint tattooed on her right shoulder blade (that'll be $184 for custom), the UVM girls trying to get the nerve up to pierce their bellies (apparently sharing one brain between the four of them), and made it to the counter ...

The pirate running the ship at that moment? Julie. (Yep, God might have been watching out for us.) Older than Em, younger than I -- another rock candy type with an engaging smile and a surprisingly gentle way. Em explained what she wanted and Julie nodded and asked, "Are you 18 and did you bring your ID?" ... Em shook her head no, but her response brought light to the pirate mistress's eyes "No, but I brought my Dad." I got a grinning once-over and Julie asked, "And did Dad bring his ID?" and I thought, "Oh, bless you, my child" ... though as I reflect back, it was likely a liability inquiry rather than flirty flattery ... (Such is life at 43) ... A disclaimer and a pair of signatures later and Em was cleared for piercing.

I got invited to the piercing room and watched the process unfold ... cleanliness looked good, sterility seemed to be in order, Em was up for it, and Julie went to work. In moments, it was over, as were the after-care instructions. I think the $42 hurt my wallet more than the needle hurt Em's ear -- but my wallet will heal faster ...

With that we escaped to the hilarity of the sidewalk for a cell phone photo and a grand hug of appreciation.

It'll be a couple months of healing (while avoiding staph, Hepatitis, and the Flesh Eating Virus) before the starter hoop gives way to the decorative spiral ...

While that time passes, we'll revel in our priceless Dad/Daughter adventure in pursuit of youthful artistic expression ...

Life is good -- enjoy every moment!