My Trip to Hell and Back

I have been preparing for today for months like Anurag Kashyap prepared to win the National Spelling Bee this year. Not for a business meeting, or a job interview, or a meeting with the Eagles to take over their General Manager spot (although I believe that would be a good move by the club). No, today was my regularly scheduled trip to the dentist. I have been brushing, rinsing with Listerine, flossing and using my new toy, the Water Pik, as if National Security depended on it. You see, I do not like going to the dentist. The ugly anticipation of going is normally topped only by the trip itself, which consists of scraping and bleeding and lectures.

While I have been preparing for months, the opposition told me they too were ready for battle, when they called yesterday to "confirm" my appointment. I translate this call to mean, "Do not even try to go awol on this, I know where you live, and I will hunt you down with my tools if you don't show up." You can always sense that hidden tone in her voice that says "you may think you are prepared, but you cannot compete with my instruments, the noise I can produce, or my ability to ravage even the healthiest of gums. You won't last five minutes before you are using a spit cup like Vitali Klitschko against Lennox Lewis." I am almost sure this is the message she intends.

So the big day arrives, and after going through the pregame ritual of extra floss and no breakfast to make sure no extra food hides in the crevices, I head over to the office early, arriving 12 minutes before my scheduled appointment, as if to say "I am confident, ready to compete, there is nothing you can throw at me I am not ready for." The receptionist says hello when I arrive, but you can tell by the smile she is really saying "You can't fool us by getting here a little early. We will destroy you. Sit down and wait until we feel like disposing of you." I am almost sure this is the message she intends.

So I sit. I have my choice between a November 7th Newsweek and an October 10th Sports Illustrated, with Brodie Croyle of undefeated Alabama on the cover. I say to the guy sitting next to me, "I will bet you $100 that Alabama will lose back to back games to LSU and Auburn." He looks at me like I am a complete and utter moron. I ask him if he would feel better about $50 instead of $100. That pretty much ended our conversation.

Finally, the moment of truth. Danielle, my hygeniest, calls me in. I stand up with a hearty greeting, attempting to project confidence. She gives me a smile that says "Look, you can pretend all you want that you are ready for me, but I am going to light you up like I am Kobe and you are the Raptors." I am almost sure this is the message she intends.

We go through some verbal sparring about trips to Tampa and how warm the winter has been, and then it is time for action. She gives the "open wide" command, which is the closest I will ever come to the "Gentlemen, start your engines!" command that Mary Hulman George gives every year at the Indy 500. The first round begins with a little gum check, in which she uttered something like "everything looks pretty good." I realize this is code for "Damn, I thought this would be a blowout, but you are actually ready this time. I am going to have to pull out the heavy artillery to decimate your mouth today." I am almost sure this is the message she intends.

We go several more rounds, and Danielle pulls out all he best tricks, polishing, scraping with an extra loud drill, etc., but I am up for every challenge. At one point she asks "What are you doing to take such good care of your teeth?" Of course, what she is really doing is probing for my techniques so that she can adjust her gameplan for next time. I tell her that the Water Pik seems to have made a big difference for me, and she says "Great", which of course is code for "I never would have given him the tip to get a Water Pik if I knew it would make such a big difference." I am almost sure this is the message she intends.

She tries a couple last tactics like flossing with extra muscle, but to no avail. Today, I am up to the challenge. The dentist himself comes in and pokes around for a couple minutes, and tries to give me a half hearted lecture about my gums, but his heart is not in it. They know that today was my day. I took their best punch better than Duk Koo Kim did Ray Mancini's.

On my way out, we scheduled my next appointment. The way she said "See you next time", I could tell what she really meant was "You better step your game up to a whole new level. We underestimated you -- this time -- but we will not make that mistake again. We will have our 'A' game ready for your next visit and you can rest assured that we will cripple you so that you leave here a shell of the man you think you are today. You will never recover from the beating we administer to you." I am almost sure that is the message she intended.

By the way, I saw the guy sitting next to me in the waiting room in the parking lot. Things did not seem to go quite so well for him. He was visibly shaken. I looked at him and said "Tough time today huh?" He said they crushed him like he was an aluminum can at a recycling plant. I asked if it would make him feel better to get a second shot at making that bet on the Alabama football team. He started to cry.

Now if you will excuse me, I need to go floss to get ready for my next appointment.