imagine, I'll hate dentists in the future. Last night
I bit into a tortilla and split my upper denture in
half. Now, when this happened in Newfoundland about 4
years ago, I thought, no way I'll get it repaired
here. And then I discovered a small dental lab about
3 hours away. He fixed it, said he wouldn't charge me
because he was sure it wouldn't last. And it is still
good. And many of you know my guy in Addison, the
Picasso of false teeth, who charges little and
entertains with stories of his navy days.
So, here I am in Tucson, with two little pink pieces
of plastic and a toothless smile. I called a couple
dental labs and they said I had to have a referral
from a dentist. One dentist said they don't repair
splits. I went to an office in a ritzy part of town.
The dentist said I'd need a new denture. I told him
it had been repaired before. He threw down a folder,
told me to go back there and stormed out of the room.
His nurse came in and said they'd make me a new
denture but the process would take two weeks. I left.
Rode around for a while and saw a practice in a not
so ritzy part of town. Walked in to three
conversations in Spanish going on at the same time.
The dentist came out, looked at the broken pieces and
said he'd have it back for me at 4:30. So, at 4:30 I
returned. The denture fit perfectly. They invited me
back if there is any problem. OK, I don't hate all
dentists. I had a great bike ride, put in lots of
miles chasing dentists and had some killer chicken
tacos for lunch.
Saw a sign at the UofA for the Oy Vey Café.
This evening went to another jazz concert. The B jazz
ensemble. They were great and had a wonderful guest
sax soloist.
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