Hola TP’ers! Sorry to start this post with a disappointment, but my homegirl did NOT get any ink done (despite the best efforts of the Campaign To Tattoo Zombie Abe Lincoln On Tina’s Cute, Little Foot—there’s always next year, folks!). This is Allison of the Tremont Turkey Fest entry, and I’m here to report on the experience at Freedom Ink, the premiere tattoo shop in Peoria.
To give you an idea of the sort of establishment we are dealing with, my bro Jeffrey and I scheduled our appointments weeks in advance; this is not the joint you stroll into half-drunk, looking to get SIGMA KAPPA forever emblazoned on your nether regions. Additionally, Freedom Ink consists of three artists, Stephanie, Zack and the owner Tim. We didn’t see Tim, but a lot of his artwork was on the walls, and it was all super impressive. Zack, who did Jeffrey’s work, was practically a Zen-master; dude was so chill, I wanted to check for a pulse. Stephanie was my artist, and she did a bangin’ job, considering the huge baby she was working with.
Yup. That’s me.
For the un-tatted in the audience, here’s how the process works. First, the artist makes a mock-up of your preferred design, which is made into a sketch and applied like a temporary tattoo. Here’s what mine looked like:
Lucky for me, Stephanie quickly got down to business. Freedom Ink, it must be said, is cleaner than your doctor’s office, and I’m not just saying that because they comped my tat in exchange for my positive review (just kidding, they didn’t!). Trust me, when the needles came out, I was looking for any reason not to go through with this plan, and cleanliness (or lack of) wasn’t going to be my out.
If you’ve never gotten a tattoo before, I’ll spare you the details of the pain. Stephanie told me it varies depending on the location of the tattoo, although she said foot tattoos rank up there with the neck. Booyah, naysayers, I’m not a total wimp.
Really, half an hour after it started, it was done. Stephanie could tell when the pain was pretty bad, and she did really wonderful, efficient work. Here’s the finished product:
Jeffrey’s tattoo, the St. Jude feet with script around his leg (if you’re curious, he used La Dispute lyrics: We are only the extent to which we love), took about an hour. His artist Zack was pretty quiet, which Jeffrey said he preferred. I wish I could say he was whiney or flinchy, but unfortunately my baby brother only smirked through the entire thing:
Pain aside, we are both super pleased with our tattoos. My family is big into the St. Jude runs (between four of us, we have more than 25 years of pounding rural Illinois roads in August heat like the happy fools we are), and I’m really glad I got the tattoo. It’s a nice reminder to focus on what’s important in life.
Shameless plug for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, where no child is denied treatment based on race, religion or a family’s ability to pay…if you’re looking for a worthy cause to share your wealth, visit this online donation page: https://waystohelp.stjude.org/sjVPortal/public/displayUserPage.do?eventId=162351&programId=301&userId=628317.
Cost: my tattoo, without tip, cost $100.