I was recently sitting at my local Starbucks drinking a seasonal pumpkin spice latte and was surrounded by people who I realized I was completely trusting despite that fact that I had never net them. I was trusting them not to mug me or shoot me or steal my precious iPad. I trusted an older woman not to stalk me when I told her my name, grade and where I attended school. In fact, a middle aged man trusted me to keep his Mac Book Air safe while he went to the restroom. He asked me, a 14 year old girl, over all of the other people in the room, including the baristas, to watch his very expensive laptop, and I was a stranger to him. It then dawned on me that there were at least two other people in the Starbucks who I had seen there before at least once, yet I didn't know any more about them than what I could gather from their physical appearances. I thought about it for a moment then decided it would be interesting to at least strike up a conversation with someone, even if it was just about something as insignificant as the weather. First, there was the older woman who asked me about my iPad and the app I was using to do my homework. I explained the app (it was notability, a note-taking app) to her and then she began to tell me about how she volunteers somewhere that teaches English as a second language. We talked briefly about that and then proceeded to go back to our respective personal bubbles and shortly after that, then she left the coffee shop. The second person who I attempted to have a conversation with was the man with the Mac Book Air, he had on headphones, but he seemed to be the least sketchy of all of the people in my immediate vicinity. He had on work clothes which included nice pants, a nice shirt, dress shoes and snazzy blue, red and purple striped socks. I told him I liked his socks, he thanked me and resumed working on whatever he was working on without another word. The third, and final, person I decided to attempt and converse with was a man who looked to be in his 20's. My guess was correct and I know because he told me. He was 24. the reason I didn't talk to him first, though I had wanted to, was because his arms were tattooed nearly to the point that he had sleeves. I suppose I subconsciously judged him and assumed we was sketchy because of his tattoos. Also, whenever I would look at his tattoos (with positive interest), I would see him looking at me and sort of glaring, as if he thought I was judging him. None of his tattoos were obscene or unusual, or at least unusual without meaning. I know because he told me the meaning of all of them, or at least all of the visible ones.
The first thing that I asked him was, "Does it hurt really badly to get a tattoo?" Which seemed like a safer way to start a conversation than "What is the significance of your tattoos?"
He responded by telling me that different areas hurt more than others, specifically that bonier areas or areas with less fat hurt significantly more than fatty areas. Then he asked me if I was thinking about getting a tattoo.
I told him maybe, but I had a long time to think about it since I was only in high school. I think he thought that I was older since he seemed a bit shocked at this. I then proceeded to say that I would only get one if it could be something with real significance.
He agreed with me and said that if I got a tattoo I should think about it a lot to make sure I actually wanted to do it because he had gotten some while he was drunk and regretted it.
I asked him if any of his tattoos had significance.
He told me the meaning of every single visible tattoo and even a few that were concealed beneath clothing. He had a tree with a Native American face morphed into the side of the trunk which began on his forearm and extended up past the hem of his t-shirt, which he said he got because he liked abstract art. He also had two stars, one on each of his forearms, with letters around them, which he promptly opened up about without me even having to ask. The letters were the initials of his parents. One was for his mother who died when he was 10. And the other was for his father. He also had what he said was the logo for the company he founded, which he said was a entertainment company on his other arm. On one of his biceps he showed me a series of starts which he openly admitted to getting while he was drunk, and he said he hated them. He told me about the roses he had on one of his arms and he said he got them because he wanted a somewhat traditional tattoo and he didn't regret getting it at all, despite the fact that it had no significance at all. The final tattoo he mentioned, I couldn't see, because it was on his knee. He said it was the name of his best friend, and he even said he got the tattoo as the result of a bet, but he didn't regret that one either. At the time, it seemed totally crazy that he would open up about the death of one of his parents to a complete stranger. It seemed totally crazy that he would admit to getting drunk and getting a tattoo as a result of it. It seemed totally crazy that he didn't seem afraid that I would judge him at all after that first question that I asked him. But maybe it isn't that crazy after all. Maybe strangers are the most trustworthy people of all. Maybe that's why he was the third person to find out that I, daughter of a conservative Christian mother and a liberal father who has specifically said that neither me or my sisters could ever get a tattoo, might want one. I told him even thought I didn't even get his name. Maybe that's why the man with the striped socks trusted me to watch over his laptop while it was open and running. Maybe I will never see any of those people again, but maybe I will, and maybe they'll remember me and Ill remember them and maybe, we might just start talking again because maybe, we formed connections. And I think connections, real, human, non-facebook aided connections, are the most important thing a person can have.
