One Christmas Eve, I entered the Airport Chapel and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a large man on the floor, balled up, face down in a fetal position. Occasionally, I observe people on the floor, someone praying or a homeless person trying to sleep. But something was peculiar about this body.

As I approached, I could see his massive biceps ripping out of his red, Affliction shirt. Every inch of the skin on his arm was part of a canvas of tattoos. Across the back of his neck scrolled a large, red tattoo with the word "BLOODS" inked into his skin.

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