Clean Teeth and Airline Confusion

A few observations on service providers:

1.  Sterling and I have been trying to book a flight for Jordan for the past two evenings.  Sterling is a seasoned traveler, and I have been booking flights via the Internet since, well, we got Internet service.  Yet, between the two of us, it took about 2.5 hours to finalize the flight.  The trouble lies in the fact that Jordan is classified as an unaccompanied minor.  No problem there.  She is a minor, and will be unaccompanied.  The problems began when we realized that although she would not be using the return flight portion of her ticket (because she will be driving back with the fam -- lucky girl) the online service wanted to charge us the roundtrip unaccompanied minor fee ($50 each way).  I kept calling Continental trying to figure out how to circumvent this charge online...and without boring you by recounting the FOUR individual conversations I had with the reservations people...I was unable to book the flight via the Internet (unless, of course, I wanted to just give them $50 for no special reason).  The kicker is that you have to pay $15 if you book through Continental over the phone.  I haven't booked a ticket over the phone in so long that I was unaware of this charge.  So....let me get this straight...if I call Continental for help in booking a ticket...they will charge me $15 for the privelege of speaking to one of their at times helpful/at times exceptionally grumpy reservations agents.  It doesn't make sense.  I know it is only $15, but the injustice and down-right arrogance of the charge makes me want to boycott Continental forever.  But since Sterling is a silver elite mosh-posh hi-falutin' member of their ever-fabulous club....I can't.  You'd think that silver elite status might mean that SOMEONE COULD HELP YOU WITH A DIFFICULT RESERVATION WITHOUT CHARGING YOU $15.  But, I'm here to tell you...it means absolutely NOTHING.  Bottom line though, we got a ticket.  Jordan is flying; we are driving.  Seems unfair.

2.  I went to have my teeth cleaned this morning.  Let me just preface this by saying that I very much dislike having my teeth cleaned.  I am thoroughly converted to the reason and benefits involved with teeth cleaning, I just have an aversion to other people sticking their hands in my mouth for extended periods of time.  Plus, when I brush my own back teeth I have to squint my eyes really hard and concentrate on a peaceful, far away place just so that I can scrub around long enough before I retch into the sink.  I'm a gagger.  I gag when the hygenist starts poking around in the back of my mouth.  Luckily, the cleaning part went very smoothly.  I'm a good flosser so there wasn't too much of the picking of my gums with the sharp metal instrument.  But then comes the interminable polishing and flossing.  You get really tired when you are tensing your body for 45 minutes non-stop.  As I type this, my fingers are sore from clenching the arm rests.  I was thinking of asking her to forgo the polishing, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

So...the cleaning is done, the dentist comes by to pronounce his verdict over my mouth.  I don't have a lot of cavities, but when the dentist does tell me I have a cavity I have an overwhelming sense of shame -- a shame so deep that I feel the need to explain (excessively) in a verbose and stuttering manner, why I might possibly have such poor dental hygiene that would allow for my teeth to start to rot out of my head.  It's like the dream you have where company drops by unexpectedly and your house is a complete and utter wreck.  I open my mouth and the dentist can see that I keep a filthy home.  It's shame.  Pure and utter shame.

Anyway, I digress.  The dentist is running a special -- professional teeth whitening for $100.  You get the trays and the whitening "stuff."  I've looked into the teeth whitening several times and this seemed like a great deal.  So, after the cleaning they had some time to make the impressions.  I threw caution to the wind and acquiesced.  Now...here is where the story starts to fall apart.  Have you seen the I Love Lucy episode where she works in the candy factory?  Imagine a similar episode where Lucy makes dental impressions.  Lucy tried three times before she called in someone else to make the top impression.  She had that pink impression gunk smeared literally over half of my face.  When she finally called for backup and the backup girl walked in and she looked at my pink-smeared face...she about lost it.  She was mad.  I was a little bit laughing on the inside, but really, I'd had enough of people's hands in my mouth. 

Do you ever think about people who lived even 100 years ago and the barbaric state of dentistry?  Or no dentistry.  Teeth rotting out of your head at an expedited rate.  I think about that sometimes (when I'm fixated on my teeth).  I know George Eliot had a lot of problems with her teeth in the latter part of her life.  I'm sorry for that.  Not that it's my fault, just sorry that she had to experience rotting teeth.

The shame.

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[Rowan Tomlinson (Miss)]

Delighted to see a blog whose philosophy is that fantastic ending to one of the greatest of 19th century novels, and one written, of course, by a woman!