The door opens to a reception desk and like most doctors offices and clinics, and I've been to 1000's of them, the receptionist shoots the universal "What do you want glare?" and to her delight she gets to be even more annoyed when I say "'English?" An abrupt "Wait I get English guy?" I don't think she meant someone from the British Isles? A few minutes pass and I have a chance to look around at the folks waiting, a fidgety kid here, a pained teenager there and the pale middle aged white guy thinking "I should have brushed more" written on his face.
A young guy pops into view and says in a happy, German accented voice "Who needs English?" Eamon shoots his hand up like he has the answer to the most difficult Algebra problem in class. The fella helping us has 1/2 dyed blond hair and is quite helpful if not a bit giggdy. The receptionist shoots us the "glad its him and not me look" and after 10 minutes of pointing to gum lines and teeth we discover "Gotta register" and we need to be seen by a dentist first. I say to the youngster, "Right Church wrong pew?" He looks confused, mission accomplished, now he knows how I feel most of the time.
We get the dreaded "map" from the translator and he draws a few arrows on it to direct us to the building that is next on the Dental odyssey. My heart rate rises and Eamon laughs "Should I call mom?" choking back his chuckles. My map reading skills are now becoming stuff of legend and even the teenager likes to jab at me now and again.
Back out to Wharinger Strabe we go and it's left, left, left right isn't it? I've been lost here before so I am quite comfortable as I think, "Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice..." We're looking for the building marked "Ambulance." Honestly, you can't make this stuff up. The arrows on the map did lead us to the spot marked "X" and only time would tell if there was a treasure buried there or not. There was certainly plenty of drilling and digging going on... yuk yuk yuk
Now this is a clinic in all its imagery. Mismatched chairs, crowded, some flakes here and there and I mean both the walls and the patients and a couple of offices with glass windows and 2 receptionists, oh goody. Naturally the glass windows are shut tight, you wouldn't want to actually see patients coming into the clinic. There is a deli counter "number machine" and like a good drone I amble up and "pulled" the numbered ticket. I couldn't read the sign but I've always been good with pictures! Here's to hoping #33" is lucky, it was my high school lacrosse number if you believe in omens.
Since we couldn't understand the "call over the loud speaker", my number 33 really is a nice souvenir. Up to the window I go, naturally "out of turn" and risk the ire of the gatekeeper. I bring Eamon along as moral support and hope that she will take pity on me or at least the boy who has to be escorted by his dad all day. We're in luck, a normal, caring health care worker. If only she spoke English it'd be a twofer. A quick sentence or 2 and the ever present clipboard makes its way out of the cubby. 36 questions and I am pretty sure one of them is "Are you pregnant?" but I am not quite sure. I ask Eamon loudly, "Are you pregnant?" he gets mad because it was too loud and someone in this Star Wars bar scene might actually speak English? Teenagers!!! It is the last time he'll make fun of my map reading skills.
The receptionist went to the same salon as our translator over at Orale Chirurgie as she got the other 1/2 of the blonde dye job. She asks "How you pay?" and I whip out my Maestro card. No, I don't belong to a band, it is the Austrian equivalent to a MAC machine card. She writes "privit" on the paper. I am not sure but I think the next few sentences were something like "They got money let's help'em before they get away." I can't be sure because it was all in German, but come on, how many guys show up at a dental clinic with cash?
The wait isn't too long but you can only watch so much German TV reruns and read 6month old German magazines before going stir crazy, you know what I mean? We keep tabs on the folks waiting and keep asking ourselves "Were they here before us?" We must have missed our name being called as the lady from behind the glass sashayed over and said "they meant you", oops that's what "Herr Umon meant." Who knew?
The creaky door opens to the dental opratory. It is a ant farm of activity and I see a pesky fly or two. How are those flies getting into a lab? Oh it must be the 4 open 3'x3'windows in front of me. There is obviously a hierarchy as everyone has different outfits with some variant of white. Our dentist says "Halo", guess no one mentioned we don't speak German. He sees this as a great opportunity to practice his English. I come to find out that that's not all he's practicing today as he is a "resident" dentist. Hmmm best not mention that to Eamon. The lab is a bit different than at home. This is more like a MASH. There are 5 chairs lined up 3 and then 2 making a mutant triangle. There are people everywhere, spouses with husband, mom's with kids and the solo teenage girl yelping each time someone touches a tooth. It is surreal. I am scanning and wondering "Did I make a mistake here?" The girls in the striped shirts are the folks that supply the tables and sterilize the instruments. They are chuckling and enjoying the brisk pace of things. After a few minutes I locate the head of the team. She is the "certified" dentist. How long before the guy poking around in Eamon's mouth consults her? The guy 2 chairs over jumps and I'm pretty sure the resident said "Did that hurt? in German. His response was universally understood F*** Yeah!
Once the head of the ant farm came over we were on our way for a panoramic x-ray. She is great, speaks perfect English and knows what we need in about 30 seconds. Where was she 2 weeks ago? Down to the X-ray room we go. It is a straight line so "no map required", hee hee haw haw. 4 minutes later I am looking at a black and white skull with a whole bunch of teeth in it. Don't see a brain in there but that's a different doctor isn't it?
Back to the dental chair we go and the x-ray is up on the screen. The verdict "you don't need surgery!" And to think I spent all that time finding the Orale Chirurgie. At least we know Eamon isn't pregnant so the trip wasn't a total waste!!!
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