Back in November of 2014, when my brother took me to see Judas Priest there was an enormous opportunity for me to people watch.
One of the best things I saw was a guy two or three rows in front of us. He was about sixty years old. His hair was dyed Gene Simmons ultra-black and looked just as fried as Mr. Simmons’ hair. He wore a sleeveless black shirt and was sleeved on both arms with tattoos, so I thought.
As the evening wore on I noticed after his fiftieth time throwing up his devil horns, some of his tattoos started to wrinkle a bit. Being nosy and easily amused by this kind of oddity, I leaned over my seat a bit and noticed that his full-sleeved “tattoos” were actually clear Lycra with roses and tribal artwork imprinted up and down the sleeves.
It was clear the man wanted to rock, but neither had the funds or pain threshold for real tattoos. So, the next best thing was Lycra.