All the stories I heard about Ernie when I was still basically a piercing apprentice. Just hoping for the day I could move past the "Go clean the blood up out of the office", or "I just maced Scuba and kicked him down the stairs, you might want to open the windows and go outside" All those stories gave me a respect for a man I never met, and a healthy dose of fear as well. They also made me want a tattoo from him more than anyone alive. So I drove down the shore to do just that. I swear when he came out of the back of that shop he was 7 ft tall and the scariest person I'd ever met. But, I told him who I was apprenticing under. Picked a design. And sat down. I watched him shuffle thru a draw of machines any tattooer would drool over. Then was lucky enough to have him go in the office and bring out an original Coleman. Light a cigarette and go to work. The stories he shared were unforgettable, and the little bits of tattoo knowledge he shared are burned into my brain every time I tattoo. I'll always wish got a chance to know him better. But, I got some good stories, a tattoo with the boldest fucking yellow I've ever seen, and a good memory of someone I cant have any more respect for. Rest Easy @tcity101 #erniecarafa https://www.instagram.com/p/BoT93P9HrjF/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ldtdx94vj4wu