So there we were in front of the K-Mart by the 6 train Astor Place station. It was our last day of junior year, and we went there right after our early dismissal. We made our trip from our Catholic high school in Queens almost immediately, only stopping to pose for a few photos.
The purpose of the trip was to get piercings. Sandra wanted to get her bellybutton pierced, I wanted to get an industrial bar in my right ear, and my other friend Jenn was just along for the adventure. Yes- Sandra was sixteen; yes- I was recently seventeen; yes- the legal age for getting pierced in New York City is eighteen; and yes, we intended on accomplishing this in our Catholic school uniforms that literally screamed “jail bait”
“The place is that way.” I said to my two compadres while pointing towards St. Marks Place. Just then a strong gust of wind struck us, tousling our flat ironed hair and light blue oxford shirts.
We made our way to Ian’s, our piercing destination, while skillfully holding our grey pleated skirts down against the wind. The three of us small talked about boys and intended summer plans… everything but what we came here to do. We were just getting pierced. No big deal. No big deal.
I had browsed the shop before with a friend, and we were greeted by the same over weight bearded Jewish man in a classy suit from behind an epic showcase of body jewelry. Till this day I have yet to see a suit in a tattoo/piercing shop.
“Hello!” Jenn chimed.
“Hi,” I dragged out the i, exaggerating my youth even more, “I’d like to get an Industrial on my right ear.”
“And I’d like to get my belly done.” Sandra blurted out.
“Alright, well who wants to go first?” There was not even a millisecond of skepticism from the bulbous man. He was even smiling!
All three of us unintentionally sighed, and I adjusted my knee socks. Looking back, that was downright obnoxious. Sandra only looked at me with furrowed eyebrows and a sad face. Jenn had already been captivated by the shiny objects in the jewelry case.
“I’ll go first. I’d like a fourteen gauge plain silver barbell, please.” Now I was starting to get a little anxious.
I stepped into the piercing room in the back, which was very clean. I met the actual piercer, who was pretty stereotypical. He had so much metal on his face, I was pretty sure if I threw a magnet in his general direction it would stick. I don’t remember his name, so let’s call him something cliché... Snake? Snake.
“Ok I’m going to do each piercing with a needle first, then I’m going to thread the jewelry through, okay?” Snake explained.
“S-sure” I choked.
“No cry babies here.” Snake jokingly warned, and pointed to a black and white sign on the wall that boldly read Fuck Crybabies.
I laid down on a covered padded table in a fetal position on my left side, leaving my right ear exposed. Only Jen decided to watch.
“Okay are you ready?” Snake asked caringly. This guy was pretty cool.
“Yeah. Let’s do this.”
“Take in a deep breath, and exhale when I count to three. One. Two. Three…”
Snake forced the needle in the first part of my ear. It wasn’t too bad for me, Jenn on the other hand let out a noticeably audible gasp mixed with a little shriek. I had to stifle a giggle.
“Oooh we have some blood. You’re bleeding a little bit, but that’s okay.” Snake informed me.
“Oh my Gawd! Mary you’re, like, bleeding! Oh my Gawd! You’re, like, gushing!” Jenn began to freak out in all of her Italian/Queens accent glory.
“Shut up Jenn!” I snapped back in a nervous laugh. I could hear her pacing a few feet away.
“Haha don’t worry it’s really not that much, and it happens all the time with these. I’ll do the next hole and then clean you up. Another deep breath, darling. One. Two. Three.” Snake made me feel a lot better, but not Jenn though since she made the same awful noise again.
If you’re wondering where Sandra is through all of this, she’s in the front chatting up the Jewish man because she thought she’d back out if she saw mine. Snake did the count to three trick another two times to take the needle out and but the bar in. I got up and checked out my new mark of badass-ness in the mirror, and it was, indeed, badass- almost as badass as my knee socks. To prove Jenn wrong, Snake showed me the little piece of gauze he cleaned me up with. I’ve had paper cuts that shed more blood.
“Jenn, you’re an idiot!” I mocked. She started laughing and apologized to Snake as we walked towards the front of the shop. He looked Sandra straight in the eye and said, “You’re next.”
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