The "Barbados Tattoo Parlour??" Story

It was an ordinary day. It's Saturday and we're walking the streets of Bridgetown, Barbados. Carol and I are joined by Jerry and Just Sue as we explore the many shops and historical places in the capital of the country. Barbados is located in the southern Caribbean, near St. Vincent, the Grenadines, Tobago and Trinidad. It is also very close to the top of South America. Weather is beautiful and today is a hot, humid and sunny day. Perfect for a walk around town. Carol and I split from Jerry and JS and visit the Parliament buildings, Queen's Park and St. Mary's Church which is an Anglican/Episcopal Church consecrated in July of 1827. Beautiful place with reminders of our own St. James Episcopal in Lancaster. We walked the cemetery looking at the tombstones and the surrounding streets before we decided to head back to the waterfront to visit the T-shirt and tourist's stores for souvenirs for ourselves and the grand kids. Along the way we see a Tattoo Parlour. Our youngest son, Paul who we call Tad, has made his body a living and working artist's palette. Colorful tattoos adorn his arm, back and legs. One on his arm is a living tribute to his Grandfather who is his namesake and died a few years ago. Whenever we travel we try to find a shirt from a local tattoo parlour as a gift for Tad for taking care of our two cats while we are basking on a beach somewhere. Well, we found one! "Tattoos Upstairs" the sign proclaims! Now to see if they have any T-shirts. I open the door and we travel up a flight of steps through another door that leads into a commons area. Sign again says "Tattoos - Upstairs." OK, up we go, again. At the top of this flight of steps is a small room occupied with desks and people working. I ask where the tattoo place is and they look mysteriously at me and point up. I turn around and see Carol heading back down the steps. Oh well, I'll go up by myself and see if I can find what we came after. At the top of the next level I pass through a heavy wooden door and there are a few beauty parlour chairs with people getting their hair done. I ask the girl closest to the door where the tattoo place is and after looking me over pretty good, points to a door to the left at the corner of the room. Off I go. "Knock" is on a piece of paper in magic marker. So I knock. The door opens about six inches and I see an eye of a young girl looking through the opening. I can see inside and the reflection from a mirror on the far wall tells me she isn't giving the guy on the table a tattoo. "Do you sell T-shirts?" I ask her. Yea, right! And the door closes again. All of a sudden a light goes off in my head and the word "tattoo" has taken on a new meaning!!! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.