Toothache

With Trina blaring in the background, I have decided to dig up this old blog, and bring it back to the roots of intention and expression. Last week was tragic!
My days off were spent lying in bed with a killer toothache, finally, I forced myself to the dentist. This was devastating on multiple levels. The price to remove my wisdom tooth was the least of my concern once I realized where I was. The only dentist close to work that could take me was in, ahem, Forest Lawn. Imagine rows and rows of beat-up cars, strip mall after strip mall offering payday loans, the chance to pawn off your belongings for a fraction of the price and I am sure plenty of opportunity to take up a meth addiction.

I entered the clinic and to my delight I was in line behind Mama LaKota and her tribe. I could also overhear a Lebanese man telling his wife that it might be beneficial to remove all of her teeth instead of paying for the root canals. I managed to find a quieter place to sit, only to be startled by the blood curdling scream of a toddler from the operating rooms (read halfassed cubicle).
Finally, my turn to be examined. After explaining the pain, the location and what I thought to be the problem, dental hygienist (who was once refereed to as nurse by dr.obvious) suggested that it was my wisdom tooth.

One hundred dollars later, and I was told that I would need to get the tooth removed and given not only two prescriptions, but a pretty copy of my x-ray as a souvenir.
I made my way to the closest pharmacy to trade that little piece of paper for two tiny containers containing pain killers and antibiotics. As I was entering the supermarket the security officer (with his billy club and his notebook) ordered me to check my bag at customer service. (WHERE THE HELL AM I?)

I check my bag and head over to the pharmacy to claim my prize when I noticed that there was women everywhere carrying their purses. "Interesting", I said out loud and right then and there I decided to take out the days frustrations on whoever was imposing this ridiculous rule. I was a rebel, with a very pathetic cause--but I was a rebel. While waiting in line (that's right), to retrieve my bag with the little coat check ticket I decided to ask some very simple questions to Customer Service. CUSTOMER SERVICE.
"Why is it that I was asked to check my bag, but there are ladies all over this place with their purses? Are you guys then liable for any loss or damage?"
"Take it up with security, my break just started"
"CUNT!"
The look on her face amazed me. I felt that my mother was going to come out of nowhere with a bar of soap and a look of disapproval. She didn't, so it became a win-win. I had taken my anger and frustration and doubled it enough to certainly ruin her little "break", possibly the rest of her day.

An appointment next week will take care of everything, so I hopped on the downtown express bus and was rushed into the core.