Chapter 14 � Return to the West

I had returned to Edmonton as winter’s arrival beckoned. I moved to the west side of town, as it was closest to the new tattoo studio I would be working at, which was called Little Buddha. I had also become re-employed with my former place of work for screen printing, so I quickly got re-settled into my familiar routine in Edmonton, but with a different twist. I would spend half the week working at my printing job, and half the week working at the tattoo shop. But, since the onset of winter, work for both jobs begun to slow down. As well, tattooing in a new city at one its newest shops did not make for much tattooing at the beginning, but I waited patiently for work to start up.

 

            Things began to fall apart for my routine after a month or so. Work with screen printing had slowed down to halt, and there was little work for me. I also spent what would be the worst Christmas ever, in a lonely house (as all my house-mates had gone away for the holidays) with a busted furnace. As the temperatures dropped, so did my hopes for many things. Eventually, I was forced to move into another house, as it was clear that the furnace would not be fixed until well after the holidays. This being the case, I moved out of that house the day after Christmas, and moved into another house in another part of town, with a number of friends and co-workers. It seemed a good, and wise, move.

 

            Around this time, I began to dream of the west. I pictured the great expanses and cities and towns that lay here, and imagined what it would be like to see these places. I was unaware at that time, but the beginnings of my road trips and tattoo guest spots, and this story that you are reading, were at hand. I started to put my feelers out, through the worldwide web, to see if I would be able to procure some tattoo guest spots. Initial response was slow, but encouraging. I also began to network with even more tattooists worldwide, and found myself with a solid and large network of fellow brothers and sisters in ink. I hoped for the best.

 

            Tattooing was still slow, though Shawn-Ray assured me to not worry, as things would pick up once the snow was gone. I also began to accumulate my own clientele for tattoos, and could now have some assurance that things would improve. Winter slowly crawled to an end, but the snow still remained, and many potential tattoo clients were not available yet.

 

            One day, I receive an email from on of my online contacts that I had struck up a friendship with. The message asked me if I would consider coming to a town to do a guest spot at a local and very new tattoo studio; it had only been open a couple weeks, and already, the tattooist/owner was swamped with people that had wanted tattoos, and he was unable to keep up with the demand. He asked me for my assistance to relieve the work load. He offered to purchase my bus ticket for me, and assured me of a place to stay and to be an excellent host. I was going to a town called Rocky Mountain House. His name was Cadillac, and this was to be my very first tattoo guest spot.