I had to go to the dentist today for a check up and cleaning. I'm one of those people who is the model dental patient. I enjoy having my teeth cleaned. I don't mind the gentle whirring of the drill. Bring on the x-rays and that weird mouth apparatus. Please---I want you to floss harder! The dentist is my friend and in his generous, overstuffed chair under the bright examination light, I'm utterly relaxed. I have been known to nod off in the dentist chair during cleanings (which, admittedly, does make it hard to keep one's mouth open).

For my numerous defects, I say with confidence that my teeth are not one of them. I have good teeth. I am inordinately proud of the fact that they are straight, strong and even. I never had to wear braces or undergo root canal. My full wisdom teeth are happily residing in the cavern that is the back of my mouth. Orthodontia for me has been limited to a few fillings and a crown on a tooth in the back that I once cracked trying to screw open a twist top beer with my teeth. I have a large mouth with lots of teeth which I try to make look small in photographs. Fang says I have more teeth than a shark, which of course is an exaggeration. But the big mouth part (which should surprise none of you), I'll cop to. One of my best parlor tricks consists of putting my whole clenched fist in my mouth. What can I say? It's a gift.

Today I went to a new dentist. Dr. Michaels was selected on two critical criteria points--close proximity to my place of work and a member of my dental insurance network. When I got to the dental office today, there was a 15 story condo under construction next door. "The fucking noise is driving me crazy," one of the receptionists said to me when I checked in. I like this place already.

The hygienist, a stoic but efficient woman, skirted all pleasantries I threw at her, forcing a paper bib around me, then layering a lead apron across my chest in order to execute a series of X-rays. She then came at me with an electric pick and proceeded to clean every square inch of my gum line and tooth surface. When she commanded me to spit, I was alarmed to see blood and what looked like sinewy bloody bits of flesh wafting down the drain. "Should I be concerned about this?" I asked, gesturing to the residue swirling in the dental bowl. She shook her head no and vanished, leaving me to examine the bloody dregs, much like a gypsy studies tea leaves.

I noticed the music playing on the sound system. It was rap. I know I heard the term "bitches" several times.

A moment later, Dr. Michaels came in. He was young and seemed on edge, a little jumpy. I began to imagine the concept of an ADHD-addled dentist drilling my teeth. Yeah, that was not appealing. He nervously briefed me on the state of my teeth (which were good, very little plaque) but he suggested I replace the crown, which admittedly had managed to stay in my head for 13 years without incident.

While we spoke--and let's be clear, speaking here means I was talking and asking questions and he was offering educated but perfunctory answers--I noticed that he evaded eye contact with me. This particular trait in anyone is off putting anyway, but it's especially disarming in medical professionals that you instill your well being and trust. When discussing specific questions of your health, one wants the steady and reassuring gaze of a kindly doctor, not the shifty, anxious eyes of someone who knows you have a terminal disease but doesn't want to tell you. That's how I equate it anyway. This boy needs some guidance if he wants a long term customer--and I may have to impart it. He ain't exactly instilling confidence.

I was quickly dispatched to the reception area. The dental chair, still warm from my ample ass, was already welcoming its next victim. Leonid, the office manager and a swarthy Russian version of Daniel Craig, arranged the appointment for the crown and prepared me for the shock of my potential out of pocket expense. While considering how I might replace it myself with a dab of epoxy and chicken wire, I did notice that Leonid maintained very good eye contact. In fact, he had very nice eyes with a piercing gaze. He could teach Dr. Michaels a thing or two.