Toothless at 30,000 Feet
In the Northern hemisphere night, as I drifted in and out of troubled sleep, 36,000 feet in the air, I was suddenly jolted awake by a stupfying flash in my eyes. The elderly man in the seat in front of me was now leaning over the back of his chair and directing a torch light into my face.
"Hello, hello, could you possibly help me locate my tooth?", he asked, with a sheepish look on his face. I must have looked as completely non-plussed as I actually was, so he went on to explain that he had just taken a pen out of his shirt pocket and the tooth, which had also been nestling in there for some unknown fucking reason had flown out and landed somewhere in the dark.
"It's a single tooth, connected to a steel wire contraption", he ventured, "It might be under your seat. I think I heard the tinkle as it landed."
By now believing myself to be in the middle of a nightmarish Pinter play, I simply closed my eyes and feigned sleep in the face of this madness.
Luckily, the young man who had been assigned the seat next to this old lunatic had just then returned from the toilet and he joined in the search for the errant molar.
My pretend sleep melted into an actual doze and, a little later, I woke to the sight of the young man coming down the aisle triumphantly holding the tooth aloft. He had found it halfway to the toilet; it had evidently been kicked and scuffed up the carpeted passage by the shuffling passengers. He handed the precious little plastic plug back to the grinning, gap-toothed oldster, who shook the young man's hand in gratitude.
A short while later, I watched the young man poke baby spinach leaves into his own mouth and the thought struck me: what on earth could have possessed him to actually pick that loathsome plastic thing up in his bare fingers?
"Hello, hello, could you possibly help me locate my tooth?", he asked, with a sheepish look on his face. I must have looked as completely non-plussed as I actually was, so he went on to explain that he had just taken a pen out of his shirt pocket and the tooth, which had also been nestling in there for some unknown fucking reason had flown out and landed somewhere in the dark.
"It's a single tooth, connected to a steel wire contraption", he ventured, "It might be under your seat. I think I heard the tinkle as it landed."
By now believing myself to be in the middle of a nightmarish Pinter play, I simply closed my eyes and feigned sleep in the face of this madness.
Luckily, the young man who had been assigned the seat next to this old lunatic had just then returned from the toilet and he joined in the search for the errant molar.
My pretend sleep melted into an actual doze and, a little later, I woke to the sight of the young man coming down the aisle triumphantly holding the tooth aloft. He had found it halfway to the toilet; it had evidently been kicked and scuffed up the carpeted passage by the shuffling passengers. He handed the precious little plastic plug back to the grinning, gap-toothed oldster, who shook the young man's hand in gratitude.
A short while later, I watched the young man poke baby spinach leaves into his own mouth and the thought struck me: what on earth could have possessed him to actually pick that loathsome plastic thing up in his bare fingers?
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