I’m Batman?

WAYNE’S WORDS
Volume 7 Number 02
I’m Batman?

I have always liked Batman and I would say that he is my favorite “super” hero.

He is my favorite “super” hero for the same reason that he is favorite of many people: he is NOT super. If you say the money and the training and the cool gear, you have a normal man. A man with flaws. A mere mortal. No off world birth. No radioactive spider bite. Just a man.

One day, sometime in the late 80s, John Mobbs and I ran out of his house, high up on Thunder Road, and jumped into my 1980 Ford Pinto. As I started the car, I told John that, since I was driving this time, I got to be Batman and he had to be Robin. Then John uttered the most awesome sentence that has ever been said to me.

John said, “Wayne, you’re ALWAYS Batman!”

I don’t know if John knew it, but I took that statement to heart and, since that day, I have always tried to live a good, decent & honest life. In my own small way, I have always tried my best to help people when I could. Sure, I have had times when inner and outer influences have gotten the better of me and I wasn’t the best “good guy” I could be. I wasn’t the strongest I could be. Hell, there have been occasions when I actually turned and was indeed a “bad guy.” As I have aged, I have cleaned up my act quite a bit and beaten many of my demons.  I have become more of a good guy than I have ever been. If you think about it: all of that is Batman.

Me being Batman became a thing. Pop Mobbs stopped referring to me as Ruprecht, their retarded son and started introducing me to his friends and associates as “The Batman: he’s with the Justice League.” When people were lacking for gift ideas for me, they often gave me Batman paraphernalia. At one time, I even had an incredible girlfriend who called me “Batz.” Once, I even scaled a football stadium light pole to the dizzying top just to prove to a couple of skeptical, passing strangers that I was indeed The Batman. One time, after a fight with a couple of drunkards, I even washed the fresh blood from my face with the water of a church fountain and applied pressure with my Bat logo emblazoned jacket – very Dark Knight-esque.

When I turned 21, I decided that I should put the fact that I was Batman in ink. So, I set off to get my tattoo. And, yes, kids, I waited until I was a full-fledged adult to get a tattoo. My girlfriend (different than the aforementioned) knew a tattoo artist and we set the appointment.

Back then; tattoos were not nearly as ubiquitous as they are now. Ergo, neither were Las Cruces tattoo parlors. In fact, this particular tattoo artist worked from her home… I’ll just say it – from her singlewide trailer. I checked out her operation though, and saw that she sterilized all of her tools very well and I viewed many samples of her work and it was very good. So, “I got inked.” The design I took in came out very nicely on my upper left arm/shoulder and I was quite happy.

Here’s how it looked:

Yes, I said “looked,” with an –ed on the end. As we all know, things change and, I now know, so do tattoos. See, years passed and I had kind of forgotten about my ink. It had become a part of me and I rarely looked at it. It wasn’t until the Bigheads began poking fun and calling me by something other than Batman, that I realized that something bad had happened.

Yes, I had become “Ratman!” When I got the tattoo, I had some normal expectation of the ink fading, but to become “Ratman!?” How embarrassing this was. So, after this horrendous discovery, I kept the abomination under wraps and went on with life – for a while.

Finally, I was sick of it. I must have been about 30 years old, because The Boy had joined the world, when I decided to get it fixed. How could I raise a son with an effed up Batman tattoo that now said Ratman? I couldn’t.

My then wife and I made an appointment with a tattoo artist she knew and went down to get the curse fixed. I felt good about this, because we were going to an actual tattoo parlor staffed by professionals – or so I thought.

Now, I don’t know what the deal was. I don’t know if the guy was high or drunk or couldn’t keep his eyes off of my wife, but the repair job he did on my tattoo ended up being anything but! When it was fresh it didn’t look bad and anything I questioned as not looking quite right, he said looked that way because I was bleeding and it was still swollen, etc. Like it mattered, because it was permanent anyway.

I know! With this computer-generated rendition, I am being VERY generous! The real thing is an atrocity! Don’t believe me? 

If I had a birthmark that looked like that, you would all say “Awesome!” Since that is NOT a birthmark and it is indeed a tattoo, I know you are all saying “Yikes!” As am I – and have been for the past 16 years.

Why didn’t I get it fixed right away? Frankly, I was just so salted out by the whole thing that I didn’t want to mess with it. Plus, I was afraid it would get screwed up even more and I would end up with just a big black splotch on my arm. I mean, a big black splotch that doesn’t resemble the Batman logo at all.

Maybe this 25-year tattoo fiasco is telling me that I’m not actually Batman. But, then again…

What started out as an off-hand remark by my best friend has been a bit of a guiding light in my life. A dark light, but a light nonetheless. The thought of being The Batman has helped me through a multitude of hard times and though I am not a master of every fighting art; and even if I am not a billionaire with a manor, a butler and seemingly endless money and resources; and regardless of the fact that I am not a caped crusader who fights and conquers villains in the night.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

I’m Batman. 

Until Next Time,

Wayne

EPILOGUE: With all that being said, I need help! All you artsy types need to design a new tattoo to cover the bat-forsaken blemish on my arm. It does not have to be Bat-related. I guess it DOES have to start out with a big black circle! I had thought some sort of eclipse might look cool, but I don’t know. I just have to change this! Feel free to submit any REAL ideas to my Facebook page. I’m serious. I need ideas! I love science fiction. Firefly/Serenity inspired is good. My son is named for D’Artagnan – the fourth Musketeer. Just remember, absolutely NO Top Gun! Hate!