The porcelain gods smiled on me last week. One day after bragging to my dentally-challenged boss that I’d never had a cavity, I went to the dentist’s office for a tooth cleaning, and voilà. The timing could scarcely have been worse, as I’m going on a road trip later this week (or, as it was known at the time of the office visit, “next week”), and won’t be home until early March. The assistant knew about my plans for the trip, so she seemed to understand my request that the treatment be postponed, despite having at least three fingers and two allegedly dental instruments in my mouth. The exchange went like this:

Dental Assistant: You’ve got a massive cavity on one of your bottom left teeth. Can you see it in this mirror?

Me: Mno.

Dental Assistant: You could, though, if I were pointing the mirror in the right direction. You gotta admit, that was an excellent view of your upper nostrils, eh?

Me: Mmmm, hmmmm.

Dental Assistant: You’re going to have to go to our other office to have it filled A.S.A.P.

At this point, I saw trouble. I’ve been planning this road trip for a long time, and there was no way I was going to let some “cavity” get in the way of it. So I inquired about the prospects for delaying the treatment until March:

Me: Cld mwe skedwul it fo Maach?

Dental Assistant Sure, if you’d rather have a root canal then instead of a routine drilling now.

Me: Oookaba. Wets doowit da-day.

Dental Assistant: Then again, where did you say you were going on this trip? Clear across the country to West Virginia? Hell, in that case why don’t you just let the tooth rot until it falls out. You’ll fit right in.

Me: I’b dot boovig to Wetht Wirginwa.

Dental Assistant: OK, East Virginia, then, whatever.

Me: Sstipid mmawwafawwa.

Dental Assistant: Huh? I can’t understand you. Just go. Get to our main office right away, or else.

Of course, in dental language, “right away” means an hour from now, but that was good enough. Normally, the procedure involves a follow-up visit two weeks later, where the temporary inlay is removed and the permanent one installed. However, the dentist assured me that due to my upcoming trip, he would be able to rush the process and get the permanent piece back by this Wednesday, just before I leave. So I said OK, let’s do it. This exchange followed:

Me: Pardon my stupid question, but I’ve never had a cavity before. Is this one of those procedures where you put me down?

Dentist: No, not at all.

Me: Well, is it one of those where I’ll wish you had?

Dentist: Maybe.

Me: So am I going to end up looking like some kind of metal mouth, like those kids I used to make fun of back in grade school?

Dentist: That is soooo last century. We don’t use metal fillings anymore, except on a few crazies from West Vir…

Me: What is it with you guys and West Virginia? And don’t you think it’s a bit unpatriotic to keep harping on other Americans when you could just as easily make fun of the Brits instead?

Dentist: Sorry.

Me: So, what do you use instead of that shiny metal?

Dentist: Porcelain. It looks just like your original tooth, except that it has no holes and isn’t rotting to death. Here, have some Novocaine.

Me: Porthelain? You mead the thtuff they bake toiwets frobf?

Dentist: Yeah, that’s it. Think of this inlay as a teeny-weeny toilet, for your mouth.

Me: Great. Bore dovocaide, pleathe.

Dentist: Sure thing, here’s another dose, just ‘cuz I like you.

Me: Ow! That hurt, almotht as much as before. Wathn’t that area thupposed to me dumb alweady?

Dentist: Yes, it’s a little joke we dentists like to play on our patients. The first round of “novocaine” is really just a placebo. Then, when the patient complains, we give him a dose of the real thing. Usually that doesn’t happen until after we start drilling, but a few guys like you call our bluff beforehand. Don’ t worry, this dose was real. Five minutes from now, you won’t feel a thing on the left side of your mouth. Scout’s honor.

Me: Thags.

He was right, the second dose of novocaine did the trick. One third of my tooth was ground off, and the nerves in my jaw were none the wiser. Unfortunately, they don’t make Novocaine for your ears, which really could have used it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to scratch a chalkboard with my slightly overgrown fingernails, which used to sound horrible but is now music to the ears, by comparison.