I don't remember if there have been other times in my life when I imagined I was in a movie, but it certainly was true yesterday. I should make clear from the outset that that was not a good feeling. The role I had in mind was in a film where someone like Gene Wilder was playing a mad scientist, so far so good, and he was experimenting on me, definitely not so good.
Actually, I was at the dentist. Regular cleaning visit. New hygienist. A little odd right from the get-go -- not so young female, hair going in all directions, spoke with some sort of accent, no, take that back, mumbled with some sort of accent. Clearly just off the boat from Transylvania.
Nothing that she did gave me any confidence that she knew what she was doing. She was using an ultrasonic (?) gadget that was new to me, it sprays a bit of water in the process, so there was a suction thingy in the right corner of my mouth -- when she had to clean the teeth on the right side of my mouth the suction thingy was in the way, and it's like she'd never dealt with this before. Things were fumbled, dropped, pretty soon my whole face was soaking wet. And every so often she said something to me, but she was mumbling, and facing away, and the suction thingy was making its noise, and I couldn't understand a thing.
Really, I was just hoping I survived with no damage. And I promised myself I would never ever let this woman close to my teeth again.
Then into the dentist's room for his check-up, where I registered my complaints. And I've been going to him for a long time and we've always communicated well.
And when I said I'm never going to her again, he said no one else has complained. Really?
Am I the one who's going nuts? Or just well along in my transition to a grouchy old man? :-)
(I did decline to make a 6-month appointment for my next cleaning, will be looking elsewhere...)