Friday, November 9, 2007
Un piercing por favor
Last night I did the unthinkable. I let a stranger poke a dagger like instrument through my nose and insert a corkscrew object with a half moon at the end. I'm pierced. For years I fantasized about getting one. Every time I was in between stuffy suit wearing high paying corporate jobs I would have moments of gazing dreamily out the window - "should I get it now, just take it out for interviews and put it back in on the weekends?" Deep down I knew that wouldn't work. My alter ego wasn't ready to express itself - too hard to detach from the left brain stock wielding cube dweller.
My friend Gaby knew of a place off of Santa Fe y Rodriquez Pena in ritzy Recoleta and I trusted her. She has a cool silver star in her nose and a belly piercing from time spent in Italy. Her piercings don't prevent her from interviewing for corporate marketing jobs here or working at a call center but we are of course talking about a different culture, another world at times - the place where its totally acceptable for a man to grow his hair longish and mullety and go 3 or 4 days without shaving to work - that dirty, sexy bum look I used to see only in Calvin Klein ads.
We met at a place called Bond Street galleria. A small cluster of piercing and tatoo parlors, clothes stores that carried mostly black t-shirts and silver studded belts like what you'd find south of market on Folsom Street. It was filled with mostly teenagers peering through the windows and pouring over catalogs of tatoo designs. All the shops had clear windows and were well lit so I could actually see people in the process of getting inked, poked, pierced. Gag, gulp, nausea. Every shop posted photos of their best work - the soccer player with an intricate portrait of each of his two children blazoned on his chest - so lifelike. One man with a likeness of his double chinned jowly aging mum on his arm. Then there were the piercing displays of silver rods poked though various nether regions of the most intimate kind. ewwww.
We did one lap thru the galleria and settled on the busiest and most well known place near the entrance. We walked in and I said "hola, quiero un piercing en la nariz" and pointed to my nose. The man-boy standing at the counter smiled, nodded and hurried off to return with a tray of my options for the ring - mostly tiny silver balls and a few with cubic zirconia sparkle, all very discreet. Do you have a half-moon (media luna) I asked? In my mind I knew exactly what I wanted it to look like. For many years during her late 30s and 40s my aunt Sea Jai sported 2 nose rings - one silver star and on the other side of her nose slightly higher up, a silver crescent moon. She wore it so well and I always admired her bravado and individual sense of style. At 55, I've no doubt she could still pull off that look if she wanted. So, I channeled Sea Jai and chose the moon.
He asked if I was ready and I nodded half convinced with a gesture towards Gaby. He said no - we don't allow friends in the room. Anxiety level kicked up a notch. Panicking inside I thought only of the worst - pain, botched work, miscommunication and being alone. I gulped and followed him down a windy set of stairs to their basement work room. It was very bright and thankfully sterile feeling. A man with his shirt off bent over a chair was getting a tatoo. I barely noticed him. Was fixated on the empty dentist like lounger chair I assumed would be my post. On the way down the stairs, the man-boy Chris made small talk. Turns out he's from Florida but his parents are Argentine so he's living with them for now in BA. His english was of course perfect and the american accent soothing. At least there will be no translation issues. Check that off the paranoid list of potential mishaps.
Once seated on the chair lounger, I asked him if he was going to use a pistol device to do the piercing - like they do with your ears in the mall back home. Even Gaby said that's how it was done with hers - one quick shot and the piercing is done along with insertion of the ring that pops in right after the blast of crisp clean air. "No, he shook his head. I'll use a needle." He then showed me the 3 centimeter long dagger like metal instrument - shaped somewhat like my eyebrow tweezers with a similar girth. Good god! I'm so not prepared for this - a dagger through my nose with no friend to hold my hand? I didn't want to ask any more questions for fear of the answer - especially the dreaded "are you going to numb it at least?" thought lingering in my mind now.
He pulled on surgical gloves and wiped my nose off with something anteseptic smelling. Then he gave me calm instructions as he picked up the dagger "close your eyes and when I tell you, take a deep inhale". Ok, I thought - just conjure up my special place from yoga breathing, time to leave my body. Ooops, too late - daggers going in - owwwww, owwww, friggin owww. Breathe in he hushed and I sucked air as he plunged it harder and deeper into the flesh of my nose. I remembered he said it might "sting" - hah! yeah right. A sting is like when a mosquito bites your leg and one half second later you swat it away and its over. This was a long dull take your breath away ache. Time slowed down and I felt my eyes tear up uncontrollably. "Now I'm going to put the ring in and then we're done". This part was no less jarring as the piercing was shaped like a corkscrew so that it would stay in position without needing a backing like a normal earring. He twisted and turned and finally pulled out the dagger - done. He lowered me down to rest on my back like a patient in the hospital. He dabbed at my ose with q-tips and antiseptic. It was bleeding a bit. I asked for a tissue to wipe my tears. Then he sent me off with a small card of instructions in english of how to wash and care for my new wound the coming weeks.
When I reunited with Gaby upstairs our Halcones motto immediately came to mind. "Fue duro pero lo hice" I said with a forced smile (it was hard but I did it). She laughed and looked a bit concerned for me. My nose ached for the next few hours as the Ibuprophen kicked in. I tried to take a photo of it when I got home but its so tiny you can barely see it unless you look really close. better photo coming...
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