Sunday, March 18, 2007
Drill, bill & feel
I regularly siphon my blogging ideas off of our friend Dale. My most recent attempt at near-plagiarism was the result of his recent goofy-parent-story, which inspired me to relate a goofy-parent-story about my friend Kapa's visit to her childhood dentist.
Never a blogger to be outdone, Dale took my theme of near-plagiarism to a new level by latching onto my dentist-story idea and writing about some of his favorite dentists.
Well Dale, here's to you. I see your dentist story and raise you one that involves bad touches. Let's see where you go with this.
My childhood dentist had a small practice with two other dentists. When I was a senior in high school, one of the three retired and was replaced by a vigorous young man who was not completely unfortunate-looking.
One day I showed up at the office for some routine maintenance to find that my regular dentist was out and had passed me on to the young strapping Dr. A, who greeted me with a hearty handshake and a slap on the back.
He chatted me up quite animatedly while he prepared the usual instruments of torture. Asked me about school and my upcoming departure for college. Noted that my family had been coming to their office for many years. Talked about his wife & kids. Asked me more questions about how I spent my free time. That sort of thing. Dr. A really seemed to like me quite a bit.
When we had completed our business activities, I got up out of the chair. Dr. A grabbed my hand, shook it heartily, looked me straight in the eye and said "Well Tom, enjoy college and be SURE to come see us when you're home on vacations."
"Ok, will do," I replied, curious about the unusual amount of enthusiasm Dr. A was displaying.
As I turned to leave, I felt his hand give me a little slap on the behind. And if I'm not mistaken, his hand lingered there post-slap for a second or so.
I'm fairly certain that Dr. A copped a feel.
I wasn't offended, as much as confused. "Did the family dentist really cop a feel?" I thought to myself for years.
Both of my parents still go to Dr. A. I haven't seen him since that day in 1984, which would now be 23 years ago. But just the other day, my dad told me "Hey Thomas, I saw Dr. A the other day and he asked how you were. He always does."
So Dale, while one or more of your childhood dentists may have been sadists, mine has been fantasizing about me for over 20 years. How many of us can say that?
Of course this means I can never see Dr. A again. Getting a close-up look at me today would only serve to ruin his fantasies, and that would be wrong.
Sometimes in life you simply need to take a stand.