I don’t want my title to mislead
you here that I had a chance to go to Martha’s Vineyard, because, although I
guess I had the opportunity, I couldn’t go to Martha’s Vineyard. I sent Katherina and Mia on the Ferry to
Martha’s Vineyard, and I knew that they would really enjoy their day. (Here... Take a virtual tour and see some of things that they may have done... http://www.mvol.com/virtualtours) Not only did I think that it was time to give
them a break from their obsessive compulsive tour guide, but I, in all of my
tour guide-ity had broken a tooth. Since
I was 300 miles from my favorite cosmetic dentist (http://www.shoresmiles.com), I knew that I would need to
improvise. I also knew that I should not stop at the
storefront by the Ferry… You know the one… The one with the sign that read, “Walk-ins
Welcome J.” But desperate times call for desperate
measures, and I would need to get this tooth fixed before those girls returned
on the evening ferry. This gnarled and
jagged porcelain dagger would not do, and there would be no other time. Summoning
all of the courage I had left, I walked into that makeshift dental facility,
and after giving them all of my pertinent insurance information they lusted for,
they took me right in. (This should have
been a red flag perhaps…)
I started to protest, but with a
tilt on her head, and a boink of her eyebrow, she hypnotized me, drew me from
my chair and into the black abyss of the backroom. She led me to the first examining room on the
right. It was always the first one on
the right; I wondered why. I jumped up into the long, blue chair with
the hard plastic covers. In one swift
movement, the chair’s arm swooped down from behind me as the chair began to
rise. I felt the drool bib being placed
on my chest and the ball bearing chain/clip combo being roped behind my neck
and then gracefully clipped into my hair.
creepy.)
“Open wide!” was the command from
the cavernous smile. “Wider, wider,
okay. Here we go.” A bevy of pain overrode my senses, but before
I knew it, a plastic cup was being hoisted toward my mouth. Although it must have been 2 ½ hours, I heard
the enthusiastic and fresh, “Swish and
spit.” Working as a high school English
teacher for many years now, my gut told me to respond with a feisty, “Swish and
spit, yourself”, but I refrained. I wasn’t
out of the clear yet! As they pointed to
the mechanized spittoon to my left, they had a devilish twinkle in their
eyes. It was almost like they could read
my terrorized mind. “All done. Just like new…” They touted.
“Ya right,” I thought. Now it was all like a movie being played in
reverse. Down came the chair, up went
the arm, off came the clip bib, out came my hair by its roots. I wriggled my face muscles back into shape as
I leapt out of the chair and out to the front desk. The only thing missing on this dental
emergency expedition was a trip to the treasure drawer where I could have
grabbed a glow-in-the-dark puppy ring. No puppy ring aside, I raced outside, threw myself against the
railing of the front porch and drew in the salty ocean air. I’m not sure, but as I was leaving I could
have sworn that I heard all of the staff members gathered in the office calling
out in unison, “You all come back now, ya hear?”
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