What Time Is It? Tooth Hurty.

You know what’s way more fun than Disney World and costs almost as much?

A trip to the dentist.

Recently, I bit the bullet (no pun intended) and made an appointment for an oral cleaning/pressure washing. It had literally been years since I’d been to the dentist.

I know, I know. But let me explain:  we just moved back from England.

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

I won’t go into further details because I love my English friends. And I want to keep them as my friends. Moving right along…

I rolled up to the dentist office here in Leavenworth, Kansas, expecting to encounter…well, whatever you’d expect from a dentist office in Leavenworth. I know what I expected. Bars on the windows, maybe? Sorry, but that was all I knew about Leavenworth before I moved here. Prisons.

And more prisons.

Also, I don’t mind being a bit snarky about Leavenworth today because I’m still slightly irritated with their Police Department and a certain power-trippy Parking Enforcement Officer. Seriously, did you SEE the drug dealers standing right around the corner from where my car was barely illegally parked?

But that’s another story for another day.

Anyhow, I walked through the doors of that dentist office and encountered nothing short of a spa — but with way better drugs! I mean, prescription medications. Thought I should clarify that. See paragraph above.

The “adult patient lounge” had — wait! Let’s just stop and ponder that for a moment. There was a room where children were not permitted.

Um…yes, please!

I sat down in the massage chair conveniently located in the — I’ll say it again for added effect — adult patient lounge and considered a freshly-brewed cup of coffee from the Keurig machine.

But I wasn’t too excited about the idea of coffee breath while someone was elbow-deep in my mouth asking me discussion questions.

So I passed.

The receptionist came to me and said, “Hey, look what just arrived!” as she handed me a current copy of Country Living. A CURRENT copy, I say.

Seriously? Country Living? A Keurig machine? A massage chair? A room where children are not allowed?

Can I live here?

A short while later, the bubbly, well-caffeinated hygienist came and physically removed me (because she had to) from the massage chair in the adult patient lounge and brought me into the main cleaning area.

We went through the usual routine:

“No, I’ve never had cavities.”

“No, I don’t know when my last cleaning was…2007, maybe?”

“No, I don’t have any recent x-rays.”

“Yes, I’d like a complimentary paraffin wax hand treatment.”

“Wait, WHAT? Did you just ask me if I wanted a paraffin wax hand treatment?”

I thought she was kidding.

She was not kidding.

I got my hands all waxed up and placed in some lunch baggies like a ROCK STAR living it up in Leavenworth.

But I figured out later this was simply a ploy to keep my hands occupied while she used that tool that rivals the speculum used in gynecological exams. How is there not a better way to get pictures of my teeth that does not involve activating my gag reflex and asking me to hold still for what seems like eleven minutes?

How about it, science? Get right on that. If we can send people into outer space, we can do this!

Anyhow, my hands were all wrapped in baggies, and my throat was killing me from all the dry heaving, but when she finally laid me back in that leatherette recliner, this is what I saw…

Are you kidding me? HGTV too?

It made me want to reconsider the whole cavity thing.

Okay, okay. Gotta give a little (non-paid) shout out here to The Smile Centre. With all their spa-likeness and British English spelling. You had me at “Say aaaaaahhhhhhhh.”