The Good Kind

The following events are based on a true story:

An Arab, a Russian, and a Jew walk into a dentist office.

No, really. It sounds like a joke, but it actually happened- only in Israel, right?

Back to my (very much true) story: An Arab, a Russian, and a Jew walk into a dentist office. *audience laugh*

The Arab man- a dentist. His Russian D.A. (Dentist Assistant… those three dots represent how unsure I am of the existence of that term, but stay with me). And guess who the Jew was?

I had scheduled my termination for– I’m sorry, let’s try that again. I had scheduled my wisdom teeth removal appointment for October 18th, 3 P.M.

From the scheduling moment until the big day I had roughly four days to accomplish all my life dreams. I succeeded in crossing many goals off my bucket-list like eating more chocolate, getting my nails done a daring color and dodging a break up (nice try).

The dreadful date arrived, and with it, the self-pity and the pain killers. I was a mess. I’m talking Amy-Winehouse mess.

My death-bed awaited, white and clean. Too white and too clean.

My dentist sharpened his tools as I laid there helplessly with headphones in, my MP3 blasting Arcade Fire’s “When you know you’re gonna die” saying my last words: “No, I’ve never experienced anesthesia but it’s definitely one of my top-ten favorite movies.”

I’m kidding! I was listening to “Uptown Funk”.

The dentist began his work. His D.A. assisting. I started to hum along to the song and lost all sense of reality and tact and dignity. I let down my guard completely and acted borderline inebriated. I mean this guy is seeing me at my worst right now, mouth open, eyes tearing up… I felt so comfortable and free to be me. I feel like in your last moments, when you’re completely detached from the “norm”- you’re in a parallel universe, and you’re insane. My shy humming turned into confident soft singing and very quickly I wasn’t just Bruno Mars’s background singer, I was every beat and every instrument- I was the entire orchestra. It’s crazy how you can sing along to the rhythm, even when there are no words. “Queen” were the first to really drive people to do that *cool fact* back to my story-

My dentist was trying to work but my one woman show seemed to be a distraction. There was a mouth mirror, a cheek re-tractor, and a few more intimidating dental tools in my mouth- but that didn’t stop this superstar. I was singing like nobody was watching. In a dentist office. To two adult strangers.

Pause & Background fact: I don’t even sing to my parents.

Resume: I was feeling fierce, I was looking like a train-wreck, and I was a bit under the influence. What happened next is hard to describe through writing, but I’ll try my best (and if I don’t succeed just remember that it’s a “had to be there” moment)-

A laugh attack.

Three strangers: different lives, different backgrounds, different beliefs, different views, different ages, different careers, different interests. Three strangers laughing like kindergartners.

It was like that cheesy movie scene right before the credits roll: background music muted, vignette circle slowly darkens into a close onto the tear jerking scene- and the joy in our eyes is almost tangible. …And I have dental instruments sticking out of my mouth like I’m a transformer. (Did I just ruin the moment?)

The dentist laughed so hard at my simultaneously-crying-and-singing performance that he had to stop mid-surgery. I opened my eyes because nothing was scary anymore. We had tears in our eyes, my stomach was in tangles, in cramps, in pain. The good kind of pain.

My wisdom was removed and replaced with a memory. The now-empty holes in my mouth stir up thoughts of a peaceful life in a country so special. A country that is one big, beautiful and colorful melting pot. And there we were, vignette slowly closing on us. Just three, very different people sharing a moment in the universal language of laughter. (Well, right now the holes just remind me to take my pain-killers and to finish the Ben&Jerry’s in the freezer. But I believe one day they’ll bring back fond memories of tolerance, acceptance, & laughing cramps).

Side-note: There’s a small chance none of this happened. I don’t know what stuff they gave me. But sci-fi or not, I like the sound of this story.

About the Author
Mor Lewit was born and raised in Tel Aviv, Israel and moved to Atlanta, GA in 2001. Ten jappy, starbucks-filled years later she moved back to Israel to join the army. She is currently studying communications and management at Ben Gurion University and on the side draws and laughs to preserve her sanity.
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