There may be no stranger and more uncomfortably painful experience than a dentist appointment. When you first step into their office you are immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of latex gloves and human suffering. The waiting room is bleak and depressing, with empty walls whiter than the crowd at a Justin Bieber concert. The receptionist greets you with a uninterested glance and tells you to take a seat. After about half a millennium of waiting you are finally admitted into the room where the actual torture takes place. Immediately your ears are hit with high pitched screeching, reminiscent of the crowd at a Justin Bieber concert.
As the dentist walks you to the chair, your exchange gazes a
patient victim in an adjacent chair. He looks disheveled and desperate. His bloodshot eyes send you a clear message: “TURN BACK NOW” but you can’t, because well, you paid a lot of money for this and there is a huge rescheduling fee.
At this point, the appointment takes a sharp left turn and starts to resemble a 1980s alien abduction movie. The dentist, a tall stoic figure, is dressed in a long mint green robe and has his mouth and most of his face obscured by a cloth of some sort, so that all you can see is his cold, penetrating eyes. He guides you onto a strange, angular chair. There are no restraints, but you have a feeling that any attempted escape will be met with dire consequences.
Suddenly the chair begins to rise. A bright light turns on immediately overhead. “What’s going on?” you blubber, but you receive nothing but dead silence. The next hour or so is an excruciating blur, as the masked figure spends an inordinate amount of time prodding and jabbing at the inside of your mouth with sharp metal objects. At one point you’re certain that there’s a buzz saw whirring around your gums. The unbearable pain makes you pass in and out of consciousness. In your brief moments of lucidity you can vaguely hear the muffled mumbling of the harrowing figure with his hands in your mouth. His voice is distorted by the cloth in front of his mouth but you can make out certain things such as “How bout this weather we’re having?” and “Any plans for the weekend?” You don’t know what it means and before you can respond you pass out again.
Before you know it you’ve woken up, dazed and confused, with little memory of the events that had just occurred. Your mouth is sore and puckered, like the crowd at a Jus-No wait never mind. As you gradually come to your senses, the dentist asks you a question and the two of you engage in the same rehearsed conversation that you perform every time you come.
Dentist: “Have you been flossing” (I know he hasn’t been flossing)
You: “Well you know…sometimes?” (No. Never. I don’t even own floss.)
Dentist: “Okay I’m gonna need you to start flossing on a more regular basis.” (I know he’s not going to start flossing)
You: “Okay, will do.” (I know he knows I’m not going to start flossing)
And then you leave with a goody bag filled with toothpaste and a head filled with traumatic thoughts. Sure your teeth are cleaner, but at what cost? Your dignity? Your spirit?
I’m Ayn Rant, and remember, always be angry.