A Menace of a Gentleman

Normally I wouldn’t consider myself a menace, someone who alters the general public’s space, but then again, I do look like a certain stereotype.  Before we get into what makes other people question my character and intentions, we should discuss why people’s first impression of me is wrong.  Let’s paint a portrait of myself using my actions as paint, rather than my “extreme” physical appearance.

I’m twenty-one years old and stand six foot one inch tall.  I’ve been a swimmer all my life, as well as a water polo player.  I excelled in water polo at the high school level, becoming one of the best players in the state and eventually being asked to try out for the US junior national team.  “Benjamin Sager” is on 8 trophies at Westside High School, a record that has not yet been beaten.  Graduating in the top fifteen percent of my class, I excelled in the arts as well as the sciences.  I obtained the rank of Eagle Scout when I was fourteen, while most scouts don’t achieve the rank of Eagle and those who do are normally almost eighteen.  I help out around the house, and get along with my family as well as the next guy.

From that description, one might peg me as the average young adult who was a smart, well rounded jock.  Now here’s what make people think twice about me, starting with the least “offensive” going to the most.  I have a bleached faux hawk, with colours ranging from peroxide blonde to honey blonde to dark chestnut (for now because my hair is ever changing).  I have five piercings, three of which are normally visible.  I have my left ear cartilage pierced and gauged to an 8 gauge.  Both my ear lobes are stretched to a 0 gauge (with this gauge, I can stick pencil erasers through my earlobe).  I have several different “plugs” ranging from solid titanium to red hollow glass to black plastic with an icon of the Virgin Mary (I’m not religious but it makes for good laughs when I talk about my “virgin” ears).  The non-visible piercings are located on my torso.  I have both nipples pierced, and before you ask, no, those didn’t hurt the most; the cartilage did.

While only some people cringe at my visible piercings, my tattoos get the most attention out of the two.  My first is a black outline of a tree that I designed, which symbolizes my twin brother’s and my pledge to not forget our “roots”.  The second is a red maple leaf on my left shoulder that marks my confirmation of my Canadian citizenship (I’m a dual citizen).  Thirdly, I got a caricature of a piranha that I designed on my left ankle.  It symbolizes my time spent swimming for the Villager Piranhas as well as coaching them.  The last tattoo that I have had inked is a memorial tattoo designed from my late grandfather’s tie clip.  Above the “tie clip crest”, “memento mori” is inscribed, which translates from Latin to read, “Remember that you are mortal.”  Under the crest is “WKW”, my Grampy’s initials in his style of writing.  To “normal” people those two descriptions couldn’t be the same person, but they both describe Benjamin Sager.  Well, as you know him today.  More tattoos and piercings are most certainly going to be added. 

My outlandish appearance once caused a change in space at The Menger Hotel in San Antonio.  I was visiting family and friends while on break from school.  One day we were going swimming in the hotel pool, which is a fair walk, in which you walk past many conference rooms, from the elevators to the pool.  Being a swimmer, I am comfortable walking around in my board shorts, so I had nothing covering my tattoos and piercings.  While on my way to the pool, I walked past the opening to one of the conference rooms, which was hosting a Painted Horses Association convention.  The convention had just let out, and several attendees (mostly seniors and baby-boomers) were crowding the hallway.  Needless to say I turned several heads (their teenage daughters must have liked the “bad boy” image) and many moved out of the way because they assumed I was some “punk kid”.

One senior was dressed up like a pink version of the “Electric Cowboy”.  Hot, neon pink accented her black boots and black jeans.  Her pink shirt was studded with rhinestones and sequins.  To top it all off, she was wearing a hot pink cowboy hat with a silver bow attached to it.  She was chatting with her granddaughter, who was wearing a wholesome but revealing outfit.  She wore a torn and weathered cowboy hat that had a turquoise and silver hatband.  Her matching necklace was draped around her neck, accenting her plaid shirt that was tied in a knot, rather than using the snaps to keep closed.  She wore jean shorts, if you could call them that.  Daisy Dukes were more what they were.  She finished off the ensemble with old brown boots.  Needless to say, the older woman definitely didn’t seem to be a fan of my “alternative” appearance.  She moved quickly out of the way so as to assure not having any chance of a close encounter with me, dropping her papers which scattered all over the floor.  Without hesitation, I stooped low and began to pick up her dropped quarry while she just stood there staring at me.  I handed her papers back to her, and walked away.  While they thought I was out of earshot, I really wasn’t.  I overheard them saying, “That was an interesting fellow.  I didn’t expect him to help me with my papers.  You (directed towards her granddaughter) should date a nice boy like that!” 

Needless to say, not only did I change their public space, but I also showed them that while my appearance may be harsh to some, it's always my actions that show what type of person I truly am.  That's why mothers always try to tell their kids, "don't judge books by their covers."  But as we grow, most cast that aside when they shouldn't.  To some I look like a menace, while to others I look like a "fun dude", to everyone, I'm a friendly guy and an overall "gentleman and scholar."