How to Go to the Dentist's Office

I know how to go to the dentist’s office in style.

I went to the dentist’s office last week. Being the adventurer that I am, I did it in the most ridiculous way possible.

Phoenix hosted a dental convention Thursday, March 4, which nearly every dentist took the day off to attend. I cracked off part of my front left tooth at 4:30 p.m., Wednesday, March 3.

Since I didn’t know that almost no dentists would work on Thursday, or that dentists rarely work on Fridays and never on weekends, my first action after cracking my tooth was to run around showing all my friends.

The tooth originally cracked eight and a half years ago in a freak gym class accident, (I will never spot the heavy kid on the jungle gym again.) and I had a root canal, so I was in no pain when it cracked again this time. I did, however, look like I belonged at a NASCAR race.

The fake part of the tooth, about two thirds of it, lasted almost a decade without a problem, but popped off when I flossed Wednesday. No, this was not the first time I had flossed in over eight years.

I called about 10 dentists before finding one who wasn’t attending the dental convention, whose name is Shannon Obernueffeman. I’m not joking; I had to call and ask for “Dr. Oh-ber-noo-feh-man.”

The only time I could get an appointment was at 12, which forced me to miss two of my three classes that day.

I was afraid to touch my teeth after the incident, since part of the fake tooth was still attached, so I didn’t brush them for over 24 hours before my appointment. I actually prefer to neglect my teeth before dental visits, since it’s the best way to get the most out of my money, but this time I did it mostly out of fear.

Dr. Obernueffeman’s office was in the same building as some law and realty offices, so when I found the building I had to search for Suite 102. I was in disbelief when I discovered it. Its heavy wooden door, with a wrought iron handle, was different than all the other doors in the building; I struggled to open it and was awed when I entered. The waiting room had marble pillars and exotic plants and the chairs were fancy in a slightly uncomfortable way.

I now equate Dr. Obernueffeman’s office with Shangri-La and El Dorado, and was convinced I had actually died after chipping my tooth, and that this was heaven.

After signing in with the receptionist, I discovered that Shannon Obernueffeman is a man. It was surprising, but he was friendly so I didn’t mind. He fixed my tooth without even using Novocain, and even though he made it a little crooked on the bottom, I don’t look like Michael Strahan.