Jay lived in Fort Erie, Canada. Just across the bridge from Buffalo. When I was a kid, we used to go to Canada all the time, because the drinking age was 19, (you could buy alcohol, and get served in bars if you looked 16) and the strippers got butt-naked. Jay used to sell hash, and I knew a chemistry major at UB who made top-notch acid, and so our friendship was born. Looking back, it was my first international drug ring. It seemed so innocent at the time. Jay would come over to my house, trade me a block of hash for a sheet or 2, and we were all happy. I didn't FEEL like a terrorist.
His tattoo has always made me laugh. Those thighs...the left arm...those pointy boots. The rumor I heard was that Jay got caught crossing the International Train Bridge, with 4 sheets of LSD. The last time I saw him, he was 23 feet tall, and I could taste music.
Extra deduction for making me listen to Rush all the time.
Bonus for not ratting us out. Thanks, "eh".
What this tattoo says about the wearer:
I am a nice boy. This is the fiercest image I could conceive.