A site of satirical musings, commentary and/or rhetorical criticism of the world at large.

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Location: Southeastern, Pennsylvania, United States

Saturday, January 26, 2008

My Vacation Tale

Recently I went for my annual root canal. Honestly, I have been more vigilant with my brushing and flossing during the last few years, but I still get cavities anyway. However, this is not about my diseased gums. Rather it is about the fabulous vacation stories I overhear my dentist telling his hygienist while he is drilling into my roots. The conversation will start with a question about his travels and he will exclaim, “Oh, Las Vegas was great!” Or he will relate an experience he had at the airport in Paris.

Please don’t get me wrong; he’s a great dentist and he certainly works hard for his time off. However, there is no denying the fact that, being a great dentist, his services do not come cheap. As an example, I am assuming that my dental benefit for this calendar year will already be maxed out from just this one visit. Mind you, it’s still only January!

Just once, I would like to have an answer ready for them about the most pathetic excuse for a vacation I could think when the small talk comes around to me. I’d start my tale by saying, “Well, once my dental bills are all paid for the year I won’t have much left for a real vacation. So this year Anne Marie and I will go to our backyard! Yes, a trip covering the vast expanse of my yard and driveway – a distance of nearly 50 feet!

“We’ll rough it, camping in the open air with the clear, starlit sky as our ceiling and the grassy bug-infested ground as our mattress. We’ll thrill to the sounds of the local wildlife and feel the nimble hooves of our local deer population as they step gingerly over our slumbering bodies on their way to the bird feeder. In case of inclement weather, we’ll duck under our picnic table. After all, we won’t need to go all the way home.

“We’ll cook our meals on the grill and eat our food at the picnic table. For recreation, I will take a dip in my inflatable pool (15’ circumference), or if I fail to get it set it up (for the third year in a row) then I will have to be satisfied with whatever puddles of water accumulate on top of the ground tarp where the pool should be. I’ll frolic in these puddles of nearly an inch deep while Anne Marie watches from a distance. My wife has never learned how to swim and God only knows she is deathly afraid of those one inch puddles.

“Of course, I doubt Anne Marie will stay very long on our vacation. Camping would be a new experience for her and I would lay the law down when it comes to roughing it. No television, no radio, no yarn, and no needles. She can live without the television and radio, but she’ll only last an hour without her knitting.”

At this point in my narrative I would expect my shocked dentist to drop his drill and perhaps offer me a bankroll so that I could leave my property for my vacation. Sure, in my dreams!

(Memo: Editor’s note to author – you rough it! I’m going to Boston!)


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