A trip to New Jersey included a stop at the very-crowded Garden State Plaza on the way to see relatives.
Near a food court, I spotted an inked biker dude, and was going to approach him, but I balk at bothering people when they're eating or about to eat. And I used his SS belt buckle as an excuse to leave him alone.
Moments later, I stopped a mall employee with an interesting horseshoe tattoo on his right forearm. He was on break and seemed uninterested. He said he was in a hurry and I left him with a flier.
Moments later, in Hot Topic, an employee with numerous tattoos, including a piece based on the art of Angelique Houtkamp, took a look at a flier, but handed it back to me and said he'd remember the name Tattoosday and check it out.
So the mall was a bust (not that I went there for the sole purpose of inkspotting), but I was optimistic that I would get pictures from Beth, my wife's cousin, who we would be seeing at the family function to which we were heading. We had chatted the night before, and she was totally cool about sharing her butterfly, dancing bear, and New York Yankees tattoos.
Alas, Beth was not up for it this evening, and I came away photo-less. There was another guest at the house (one of the host's neighbors) who had a cool black cat with arched back tattooed on her chest.
I wanted to speak to her about it, but it didn't seem appropriate under the circumstances.
So this is what I meant the other day when I mentioned my blogging about the misses, in the absence of successes. What do you think? Was this remotely interesting? Let me know in the comments section.
