I met Mike in the smoking area of Midway Airport, in Chicago. He was pretty much a total goober...the kind of guy who walks around singing George Thorogood songs, always dreaming about finding a box of money. We talked for about 30 minutes, but I was all fucked up on Valium, and Whiskey (only way I can get on a plane) and forgot most of our conversation.
Mike was an OK guy, and I feel bad for him. He either has the world's ugliest kid, or one of the shittiest tattoos ever.
Extra deduction for making me feel bad...fucker.
And I think he copped my lighter.
What this tattoo says about the wearer:
I am not Courtney's biological father.