Here’s a pretty miserable photo of my tattoo, but it doesn’t look much better in person. It gets blurrier with every passing year. Pretty soon it’ll look more like a hot air balloon than a question mark.
“So, wow, you’re pretty into hot air balloons, huh.”
“Oh, yeah, well, I got this years ago. I was young. It was a different time.”
“What time was that again?”
“1873. I had the sickest ride from Calcutta to Siam, dogg.”