Incredibly curious.

Highly adaptable.

Extremely resourceful.

Intuitive.

Mischievous.

Dextrous.  

Relentless problem solvers.

Every single one of those descriptors is rather apt for a raccoon.  And those traits are absolutely relatable in this stage of my miniscule slice of time hanging out on this rock spinning around in nothingness.

Minus dextrous…if you’re new here see “The One Mic Drop To Rule Them All” to get up to speed.  I have disqualified myself from that designation.  

But, #lifegoals.

So given that raccoons and I share so many qualities, not to mention quirky personalities, it’s not too much of a stretch to answer the question – “why does Ryan have a tattoo of a raccoon on his leg?  And a rather large one at that?”

I’m glad you asked.  

Spoiler alert – it has NOTHING to do with anything I’ve written thus far.

You see, I am a sentimental type (I’m afraid that comes standard with the highly sensitive emotionally seasoned model Ryan) even though I possess hardly any items of significance.  This nomad lifestyle has swung the pendulum even further from wanting to buy stuff.  Buying a keepsake from every stop on this tour de force is simply not an option.

The good news is I’m tall and have a lot of epidermal surface area to work with.  Thus, my body becomes the vessel that holds and transports the sentiments from my temporal homes.  

My guidelines are as follows – if I live somewhere for more than 4 weeks then I will get a tattoo that represents it on one of my legs.  But here’s the catch – I’ll not find an emblem or symbol on Google or ChatGPT.  No sirree Craig.

I seek out a local tattoo artist and task them with using my leg as a canvas for whatever he or she thinks represents that town.  Montreal is my first stop, however this is not my first rodeo with the surprise tattoo game.

I owe the trust I place in artists to do this to one of my best friends, brother from another mother, fellow 1981 baby and flat out incredible tattoo artist Todd Heckert.  Inking under the name 1 Tribe World.  He is in charge of designing all of my upper body Norse work and I do not question his designs.

Sounds a little crazy, right?  I have never claimed not to be a LITTLE nuts.  

A highly rated shop called Black Light Tattoo is housed in the building adjacent to my office and so I stopped in a couple weeks ago and spit my idea out to a few artists.  No one pounced, I was instructed to flip through the books on the table, pick an artist and reach out via Instagram to schedule.

Steph Guillotine was my pick.  Like a raccoon, I relied on my intuition and the admiration of her work.  I reached out, explained to her what I was looking for and we scheduled it for this past Tuesday.

Imagine waking up knowing you’re going to get a tattoo but having absolutely ZERO idea what it might be.  That is fucking Christmas Eve to an inkhead.

As I arrived and exchanged pleasantries with Steph we quickly realized that she had misunderstood my ask and did not know I wanted what I did.  When I explained a bit more clearly I could see her waffling a bit on where to go with it and so I gave her a nudge – I’m big into nature.

The lightbulb above her head shone like the North Star, “Raccoons!  Raccoons are so Montreal.”

She had just seen one sleeping in a tree outside the window of the tattoo  shop for an hour.  Which is on the third floor.  

Fearless sons of bitches too.  

I haven’t seen one, but what the hell.  I went into this gambit with an open mind, like I do all things in life and said let’s fucking go.  A raccoon it is.  20 minutes later she had the sketch with her signature button eyes and push pins voodoo doll style ready to rock.

An hour later I was walking the streets of Montreal with a rather large raccoon face tattooed on my right leg.

Irony, or universal intervention, I looked up the meaning of a raccoon tattoo/spirit animal and leaned into all of those resonating characteristics.

Taking it a step further, how many times have you heard stories from people talking about how they were sure they had their trash bins airtight and fully secured from the onslaught of raccoons only to be foiled time and time again?

That’s exactly how I see myself in this life.  Every time it has beaten me down or kicked me in the crotch so badly that I didn’t think I could get back up, I emerged.  Wiser, more mature and after some time shining brighter.

After relapses, after manic episodes, rock bottoms.  Life’s trash can lid has not prevented me from getting right back in that bitch.

Perhaps a raccoon getting into a garbage can isn’t as extreme, but who am I to say?  Maybe the hardened cheese on the Jack’s frozen pizza cardboard circle saves that raccoon’s baby.  

Not only that, but many of those words that describe raccoons also fit with the vibe of this fine city full of immigrants.  Immigrants are inherently courageous, adaptable, curious, able to thrive in new and unknown environments.

If you’d have told me Tuesday morning that I was going to walk out of Black Light Tattoo with a raccoon face on my leg, I’d have asked what drugs you had taken.

Yet here I am today, very happy with it from all angles.  The artwork itself, the significance, and how it represents Montreal and its inhabitants.  How it resonates with who I am.  And I’m proud to be the canvas for artists who live in every one of my stops.  Proud to carry Steph’s art.  Proud to let my body be my personal nomad journal.

It also gifted me a theme to tie this endeavor together.  No city skylines or Fleur de Lis in my future.  These legs are made for nature tattoos.

I can’t wait to see what I walk out of Providence, RI with.

PS – I surveyed a couple of completely unbiased Montrealers at my office if they agreed with Steph.  She passes with flying colors.  

PPS – future iterations will be downsized.  I’m not THAT tall.