Clareified

I’ve been burning the proverbial midnight oil in anticipation of trial on one of my cases. I met up with Superfischel last night for the drive back home and my first meal of the day.
I barely said hello, before I was biting into my still warm cheeseburger.
And then I chewed and chewed and chewed some more.
“Yeah, I didn’t know anything about cheeseburgers and you didn’t answer your cell, so the guy said to just make it medium,” Fisch explained.
Ah. So, that’s what eating a fistful of ground beef is like. Chewy. Like Gum.
Mmm. Meat Gum.
I swallowed it twenty minutes later and settled on fries for dinner. The burger would have to wait till I got a chance to cook it.
I got back to North Kenwindsorton Court a llittle after midnight and took the elevator up to the first floor.
I got the mail, checked for packages and pressed the elevator to go to my apartment.
I got inside and just as the doors were closing, a hand jutted through the opening.
A hand with a leash wrapped around it.
“Sorry…sorry,” said a stocky latino guy. He stepped inside and a huge golden haired rotweiller doberman dinosaur scrambled in beside him.
He pressed the button for the top floor of the building.
The dog sat down. When we reached the third floor, it looked at me. By the fifth floor it was standing and panting in my direction.
At sixth, it was sniffing at me.
“Down! Sit down!”
The dog barked.
Ninth…
He was trained on the bag of meat in my hands.
Tenth.
The stocky guy is futilely trying to pull the dog back. I am pressed against the side of the elevator deciding whether to press the button for the next floor, throw the bag at the monster and run.
Finally, the doors open at my floor and I slide out.
The dog comes a bit out of the elevator after me before his owner pulls him back inside.
My heart is racing and I make a note to step up Operation Get Rid of All the Dogs.
I get home, fry up the burger, eat and go to bed. For some unknown reason, I have a dentist’s appointment at 8 in the morning.
Ok, the reason is known. This girl I went to high school with apparently has some freakish gum disease and has to have a face transplant next week. So naturally, after hearing the gruesome tale of the symptoms and treatment, I too started to feel warm and swollen and in need of a face transplant.
“No, dude. That’s not your gums you’re just fat,” Karol assured me.
Bitches.
But, no I would go to the dentist!
So I went to bed at a reasonable 1 a.m. and was up and at them by 6:30. I called a cab and laughed as the car pulled up to Grand Central at 7:20.
I am going to be sooo early, I smirked to myself. With forty minutes to go, I was like ten blocks away!
Oh, the universe does not liketh the smirking.
And so, there were police blockades all along 42nd street preventing traffic from going North until tenth ave - i.e. 6 avenues away from my dentist.
Then, we had to drive all the way back East.
At 8:10, I was still in the cab and now I was three avenues away. I called to let them know and the very nice secretary told me not to worry about it.
Finally, when a cop told us that all traffic in midtown was shutdown, I got out and walked the rest of the way.
I got to the dentist at quarter to nine.
Yes, universe, I have learned my lesson.
The kindly man asked me what my complaint was and I said: “um…my gums feel weird and my bite’s off…i dunno…it’s weird…”
Oh, and I am a hypochondriac.
But not so!
Turns out the last dentist who did my filling, made it too high and didn’t shape it to my mouth which was in turn causing inflammation and a generalized ruckus.
The dentist polished my fillings down and asked me to bite down.
“Hey! That’s better. It doesn’t feel funny anymore!”
“Yeah, it was a very simple thing. You aren’t crazy; they should have filed it down.”
(Seeeeee? Right there, in case ya missed it: A DOCTOR said I wasn’t “crazy!” So there.)
I left his office, made a follow-up appointment and told the secretary I would try to be on time.
“As long as they don’t close all the streets on me, I should be fine.”
“Ohh…yeah…today’s the tree lighting.”
“WHAT! They have shutdown midtown during the morning rush hour for the NBC HOLIDAY TREE LIGHTING SPECIAL?”
WHAT.THE.BLEEP.
I am so writing a letter to the Mayor.
Ohh, and I’ve going to give him the whatfor about Staten Island residents paying less for the Verazzano bridge.
And the upside is, now he has to take me seriously because I am not crazy!
Hurrah!

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Wednesday, November 29th, 2006 at 12:13 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.