is this a tooth?

Every four or five weeks, we make a trek up to Atlanta to have Tim’s haircut.  I’m included in the cutting sometimes…but Tim’s hair grows like a weed and since he doesn’t plan on putting it in a ponytail, it needs more frequent attention.  Not just anyone can do the job.

All it takes is one cheap, bad haircut and you’ll know – you get what you pay for.

One thing we normally do after the haircut is over is go out for lunch.  It’s kind of like a mini-date and where we live is fast food heaven – and I don’t do fast food.

We usually have fun picking a new place or we go back somewhere we really liked.  On that particular afternoon we were feeling adventurous and decided to try the former.

Our decision was an establishment called The Tavern.  It was really busy – which is not typical early on a Saturday afternoon – and we were squeezed into one of those tables with long booth seating on one side and single chairs on the other.

I sat in the chair, Tim in the booth, with parties of two on either side of us.  To our right was a middle-aged couple with piles of shopping bags next to them on the floor.  On our left were two older ladies that must have been near their seventies.

We didn’t pay either much attention and went about our business of ordering, talking, and enjoying our meals once the food was delivered to our table.

Then, the two old ladies began leaning forward over the table, staring intently at something the lady on the chair side (MY side) was holding out on her index finger.  Tim and I just looked at each other like, “ok…that’s a little strange…definitely not sanitary…”

At that moment, their server came over to ask if they needed anything. 

“No.”  They said.  “But what does this look like to you?” And the lady with the object on her finger held it up for him to inspect.  The guy just fumbled something like, “I don’t know…OH! Someone just sat down in the imaginary chairs!  I must go greet them!  Ciao!”

The two ladies muttered something and Tim and I tried to ignore them.

Then I hear the two speculating again and out of the corner of my eye I see this object in my peripheral line of vision.  The look on Tim’s face told me what I already knew.

I slowly turned my head to the left and there is a greasy finger pointed in my face with something plastered on the tip.

The old lady looks at me through her spectacles and says, “Is this a tooth?”  And holds it up higher and shoves it closer to my face, as if I needed to make a more careful inspection.

My mouth would not open.  I couldn’t speak.  I just stared, unable to take my eyes off the white thing on her finger.

She continues on, “Does this look like a tooth?  What do you think?  I think I just BROKE MY TOOTH!”

Someone how managed to sputter out, “I really don’t know…you should probably ask your dentist.”


Me, trying to keep my sandwich inside my stomach: “I have no idea. Take it to your dentist.”

Old lady: “But WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Thankfully, the server came back to our table at that moment to ask us if we were doing all right.  Maybe he saw the wide-eyed desperation in my face…and knew that no, I was absolutely NOT all right.  I was about to start gagging uncontrollably and would soon be in need of a medical escort.

The old lady finally lost interest in grilling me and wrapped the atrocity up in a napkin.

I gave Tim one look and he immediately asked for the check while I got up and waited by the door.

I didn’t dare go into the bathroom to try and compose myself for fear of being cornered by that old lady and questioned about the color of her bowel movement.

2 Responses to “is this a tooth?”

  1. 1 Coco June 18, 2009 at 9:59 pm

    I’m speechless. That’s just terrible.

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