A Trip to the Dentist

It was my first trip to the dentist in, I don't know, two to four years. The dentist was a tiny little storefront in Georgetown; my chair was in front of a bay window that led directly to a big bush (not that I really wanted people walking by to see me getting my teeth cleaned [I mean, it isn't a haircut...]).

The dentist's office had no doors, which is an interesting choice. Because that day, a teenybopper girl was getting some teeth pulled (I only counted two--after having eight teeth pulled, I am unimpressed; I feel like you just shouldn't know how many teeth got pulled from another patient in your dentist's office). The sounds from her area varied between loud yelling and soft yelling, as her dentist tried to convince her that if she yelled like that the whole time, he wouldn't be able to tell when it actually hurt. There was another woman in the waiting room overhearing all of this (remember: no doors) as she waited to have her wisdom teeth pulled. She was a bit uncomfortable.

When my appointment was over, I was sitting in the waiting room to hear the results of the x-rays. The dentist who had just finished fighting with the teenybopper (and was a little embarrassed about it) sat down beside me and asked me if I was nervous. I gave him a confused and sort of frightened look, before realizing that he thought I was going to have my wisdom teeth pulled.

Thankfully, I didn't have any cavities.

P.S. Stearns and Diana: Remember our old teenybopper song? Remember discovering that we were teenyboppers?