I’m standing in a dimly lit back room of a hotel. The floor is covered in some unidentifiable, sticky substance; the air is heavy with the smell of sweat and something sweet. Four burly men are clustered around a table in front of me, seemingly oblivious to my presence.

Suddenly, one of them jerks up his head and looks straight at me. “You,” he growls in a deep, chesty voice. My pulse quickens as I stare at the plethora of colorful tattoos adorning his chest and arms. “Are you the one who’s interviewing me?” he asks brightly. “Come on over!”

Welcome, dear reader, to the 13th annual North Carolina Tattoo Convention, where stereotypes are shattered daily left and right.

It’s around 5 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon, and the back room I’m in is the kitchen of the convention center, in the downtown Greensboro Marriott Hotel. Through an open door is the main room of the convention, where elaborately decorated booths line the walls and the symphonies of buzzing needles play constantly.The man who called me over is Little John, the owner of Little John’s Tattoo and the main organizer of the convention. The kitchen seems to be where he deals with administrative issues such as finances, dividing up work loads, and drinking a good deal of beer.

I waddle over the sticky ground and make my way to Little John to ask him some questions before he’s pulled away again. Hosting a convention is a hectic job, it seems.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning at me. “We think this could’ve easily been one of the biggest years ever.”

Now in its 13th year, the convention started out as “the North Carolina Tattoo Invitational,” a considerably smaller event. Little John hosted it then, too, though he didn’t own his famous tattoo shop at that point. Still, it was the same idea – bring tattoo vendors from across the nation, and even the world, to one spot to talk, trade ideas, and, of course, tattoo.

There are 72 artists here this time around, more than ever before. Not all of them stay for the entirety of the convention, but they all get a chance to get their art out there.

I’ve got to admit, I’m skeptical about calling tattoos “art,” but all my doubts are erased as soon as I step on the main floor. The different artists showcase a wider variety of intricate, beautiful, and detailed designs than I ever dreamed possible.

“It’s very interesting to see all the different styles,” says Eli Williams, an apprentice at Two Kings Tattooing in Hendersonville. “Everybody has their own way of doing it.”

That’s for sure. No two designs here are the same. There are artists that specialize in everything from portraits to tribal designs – there’s even one woman who’s known for designing owls. Each artist brings his or her own style and, inherently, shares it with everyone else.

“The artists learn a lot from just going around seeing each other,” says Kathleen Maxim, who is here on behalf of a tattooing magazine.

“It’s definitely a whirlwind of information,” says Melissa Andrews, whose husband Bart owns a tattoo studio in Jacksonville. “You get feedback from other artists who you wouldn’t normally get feedback from.”

Difference in style isn’t the only sort of diversity present. Sure, I see plenty of heavily tattooed men and women as I walk around, but they’re not the only people there.

“We’ve seen soccer moms, doctors, veterinarians, and even a great-grandmother in a wheelchair who was getting her fifth tattoo,” says Little John. “Diversity – that’s what it’s all about, right?”

Perhaps to him, but every person at the convention seems to have their own reason for attending.

“I came to the convention to support one of my friends and to see all the artists and their work,” says a visitor named Nadia Wilson. “Oh – and to get a tattoo.”

“I came to get wasted,” says her friend, Josh Nightmare, simply.

Tattoos and alcohol consumption aside, one overarching reason for attending for vendors and visitors alike seems to be the atmosphere.

“My husband and I are from Greenville, which is not as culturally diverse or open-minded,” says Elizabeth White, a visitor, as she waits for her husband to finish his tattoo. “It’s nice to get out around people who enjoy some of the same art we do.”

“It’s like a camaraderie of people because you can come here and show off all your tattoos with no fear of judgment,” says Candice Stanfield, a volunteer at the convention.

What unifies everyone and keeps them coming back, however, isn’t the atmosphere, the bands, or even the midget wrestling.

“I’ve been tattooing for 31 years, and I’m the most blessed guy,” says Little John. “If you can love what you do – if you get to wake up in the morning and make enough money to pay your bills – what more can you ask for?”

Aside from a tattoo or two . not much.