I have one and a scar of another. And eagle holding a banner that says "U.S. Army" on my bicep.
The scar is a whole different story:
In college, on a drunken Thursday night before my appointment to have the eagle tattoo 30 miles away, my friends dared me to get an Ace of Spades card tattooed on my rear end at the new tattoo parlor in town. I drunkenly, willingly did. It looked terrible when I was sober.
After the eagle was tattooed on by a skilled artist, I mentioned the mistake on my rear end. I was instructed to drop the pants. The artist looked at it with a funny face and said, "I can remove that...for free. Just to get rid of bad art." As a poor college kid, I agreed. I was instructed to lay on the table with the pants around the ankles. I was then strapped down and given a big pencil to bite down on. I then felt a stickey salve type substance circling around the tattoo. Then a cool liquid. I was then instructed to bite down on the pencil. I heard the flick of a bic lighter. I SCREAMED LIKE A LITTLE GIRL. He lit a pool of rubbing alcohol on fire over the fresh tattoo. I thought it was done and was told, "Nope!" I then hear him dig in the cabinet and a cloth snapping. He began buffing out the 2nd degree burn with emery cloth. He slapped a bandage on it and said, "It'll be all gone as soon as it heals up."
I didn't sit for a week. The burn scar is barely noticeable now. It can only be seen as a red mark. The red mark and the story are all I have left of that bad tattoo.