No Place To Go But Up

When I moved to Lubbock I knew it would be an adjustment. I had very few friends with the exception of those I met through the girl I was dating at the time. All were soccer players so I volunteered as a team manager. I managed to sit on the sidelines of every practice and game reading or studying, making half hearted attempts at learning the rules of a game that I can say today I am no more knowledgeable about than I was then. Never playing sports in high school I didn’t understand the whole team camaraderie element so when I was included in the plan to pierce our noses before Thanksgiving break I jumped at the chance. At least we weren’t shaving our heads.

We piled into the goalie’s SUV and headed to the tattoo parlor in town. It was nothing like where I got my tattoos in Houston. There was no Westheimer in front carrying car loads of people out on the town on any given night. There were no characters hanging around; street kids, bikers and punk rock queens. No, this place was D-E-A-D. We were the only customers. This, as it turns out, served to limit my humiliation to only those who would bear witness to my cowardice of the night.

I didn’t want to go first so as girl after girl got her nose pierced I watched intently for signs of pain. A few winced. I saw a few tears collect in their eyes but all in all they all treated it as a non-event. When it came my turn, my heart raced and my palms began to sweat. I thought, “I can do this. My ears are pierced. TWO PLACES.” I remembered the gun when you got your ears pierced at cheap accessory shops in the mall. The POP of the gun then the whole ear lobe getting hot. Seconds later it would start throbbing so hard that I was sure if I looked in the mirror it would look like my heart left my chest for higher ground and settled in my ear lobe. How when it was over I always breathed a sigh of relief and thought to myself that wasn’t such a big deal after all.

I sat down on the black metal chair prepared for a similar piercing experience. Problem number one: they do not use guns to pierce your nose. They use a needle. Yep, that’s it. I could pierce my nose and fix a hem with one instrument. Problem Two: It hurts like hell! So much so that I promptly fell faint right out of the chair the second he pushed the needle through my nose. Coming to lying on the floor of a tattoo parlor in Lubbock, TX with a needle hanging out of my nose and a 500 pound biker named Ozzy peering over me I knew my life had hit a low the likes of which it had never seen.

I thought happiness was Lubbock Texas in my rear view mirror…
But memories like this just get nearer and dearer.