People,

Yesterday I had to go to the dentist to have my teeth cleaned for the first time in 9 years. Dag. When I tried to think about all the horrible things I've eaten in the last decade it made me very nervous to think about what might have been left behind on my pearly whites. So, understandably, it was with great trepidation that I walked over to the MIT medical building.

Anyway, I shouldn't have worried about my fear of the dentitst at all because an even greater fear of mine was about to be realized. I got on the elevator and hit 5, the floor my dentist is on. Just as the door was shutting this guy poked his arm through, forced the door open and got on. This made me a little nervous because I fear enclosed spaces and like to get my elevator rides over as soon as possible, but it wasn't that big a deal.

I hit my button again and the door closed....almost. Once again an arm shot through the crack and opened the door. This time it was a very dour looking girl. By this point, with the claustrophobia, dental fear and my normal level of general anxiety I was getting a little jumpy.

The girl hit her button and the door finally closed. Thank god, right? Wrong. The second the door irrevocably closed the girl threw up. And threw up. And threw up. And threw up. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I CANNOT handle vomiting in anyone over 5. Hearing someone else toss their cookies gives me a bad combined case of the dry heaves and the heebee jeebees.

So as the vomiting is going on the other dude in the elevator is being completely sympathetic and caring. This was good, because my reaction to the situation was to do this weird cartoon dance where I contorted my body in many odd shapes while squeezing my eyes closed and sticking my fingers in my ears.

The other dude stopped the elevator at the second floor and helped Senorita Puklestein off. I also got off, although it took a Carl Lewis-esque leap to get over the puddle of ick.

It was so nasty I can't even put it into words. It makes me never want to ride elevators again. On the bright side, I guess in some ways it may have been a blessing because after that experience having my dental hygeinist hack away at my molars was no big deal. Life is funny.