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Day out of Days

Santa Monica, May 11, 2002

Yesterday was friday. It was a crazy friday. Especially at LAX.
Waved goodbye as my wife disappeared through the departure gate. It had taken hrs. Shopped some groceries and worked the bugs in my PC till 3am. It's a bit old for that stuff. At 6.30a.m. my wife calls informing that she has arrived in Dublin for her stop-over. Dublin is overcrowded with sloppy backpackers but she is ok.

The Santa Monica sky is very bright and blue this morning. Hoppers at the beach. I can't sleep any more. Throw laundry in the machine. Make coffee. You'd think that worldtravellers - like me - have to be very organized. Their carry-on possessions are small. And behind every button or zipper there is something handy. I'm organized allright. Most of the time, although less anal and sometimes even sloppy. Remember those hotel bathtubs?. As I sip the coffee it dawns on me that I'm missing my creditcardholder. Where did I leave it? Let's see.

Hoping I left it in my tiny office around the corner. A few blocks away. Drive over. Guess what? Not. Nope. Nada. In that case. They might damn well be at the house swooshing and slushing around in the washing machine that I just started. I rush back outside. As the door slams shut I realize I have left the keys of the car inside. As well as the house keys and the key to get back inside the office. My cellphone is still inside the car. I can even see the spare set of carkeys, laying in the shotgun seat. If they had a sense of humour,they would be smiling.

I decide to walk home and give up on my plans for the day. These things tend to get tedious rather than better. At the security gate I hear that the cleaninglady has just arrived to (highpitch) "KLEAHEANNAH!" She's from Guatemala. Talks like that. She's a golden maya girl from Guatemala - middle thirties - with "too mahanneee (highpitch) ....CHIELDRANN!" Sweet. As I get in I'm ready to possibly do a ferocious blowdrying job on the driverslicence etc. cards. The wash machine indeed is slushing away. I put a white wash in just before I left and set the coloured wash aside. Thank god. The creditcard are still high and dry. The day is getting better. I call a locksmith. Have some more coffee. Unbelievable. The guy picks me up after 15min. In LA. And 15 more minutes later I have two new locks with keys on the door and this little hick-up is history.

Part of the afternoon is spent in the center of Beverly Hills. But no shopping. I will spend hours but I'll just describe 90 sec.

The room is small. Not exactly big enough for the three people in it. I've always been going to her. For over ten years. They have music. LA rock today. White latex hands approach the subject, Yours sincerely. 4 hands. A white light sits in the center of the eye. The pretty third latex assistant clonks around with noisy underwear. I mean, down under, I mean, shoes and opens drawers. Closing them again. Clank. Loudly. DingDong. King King is more like it. The landinggear comes down. Can we lower the volume on the elevator rock, please.

Tiny shots pinch in different areas of the gums, left, right, up, down. Tiny drill now. Bzzzz. "Numb a little?" Prrrrr. Uhm. Almost. "Feel this? "Hanging in there. Up-to-date anaesthetics. Dentists are proud of this. "We drill a tiny hole in your jawbone. Place a plastic tiny little needle holder. Inject through it as needed. Pinch. And voila, instantly "Numb & Number". Heart is racing. But that's normal. Right. Great. Now you'd probably think this is where the action is but I can assure you it's just foreplay. It gets better. But I won't spill the beans. Fuck. I smile at aging teeth gracefully with dental maintenance. What an invention. So, after three and a half hours further I'm driving home slowly, I'm home at 7pm. In bed with painkillers and soyasoap feeling more dumb than numb.


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