So I was standing behind this guy with MAJOR tatt-age going on. And by major I mean HOLY COW THIS GUY HAS NO SKIN LEFT ON WHICH TO TATT. (My favorite tatt, btw, was the one behind is left ear that said "Stay golden.") Yes! A skin shoutout to Ponyboy!
Anyway, I try not to trade in stereotypes, but if you stood behind a guy with this much going on skin-wise, would you assume that he is a) a freshman at BYU or b) a gangsta?
Fine. He's probably neither one. But still.
Well, the man standing in front of my Mr. Tatt was an older gentleman. A chatty older gentleman who was talking to the guy in front of him about Viet Nam and World War II and possibly various other wars, as well. When that conversation was over, this gentleman turned to Mr. Tatt and started chatting him up. Here's what he said.
"My wife and I moved here from North Carolina. We like Salt Lake City, except there are lots of gangs here."
And I went in my head STOP. TALKING. NOW.
But he didn't. It was all gangs, gangs, gangs. Much to his credit, Mr. Tatt was very polite. His mother would have been proud. And so was I.
Nicely done, Mr. Tatt!