Anyway.
So, just home from the dentist, a bi-annual cleaning, and I had a question, and then realized I could get an answer, and so called the office.
A really quick and dumb question, I said, but I just had a cleaning, and Kelly did the fluoride thing, and . . . Can i have a cup of coffee? Or was I supposed to wait for a while. The girl laughed, and said coffee was ok, if it wasn't too hot. Thanks, I said, and felt good about, enjoyed, this little bit of dialogue.
At the dentist, in the chair, I was a little chatty. Above the chair, on a swivel arm, was a TV screen. (Do we really need to be watching TV all the time? At the grocery store? At a gas pump?) On the screen was Pandora, and the playlist was Easy--now playing Elton John. Is this music OK? Kelly asked. Whatever you like, I said, and then, since she asked, said, or you could type in JS Bach.
Brandenburg 2 came on. Where's he from? Kelly asked. Germany, I said. This would be around 1720.
And I considered a little lecture on the trumpet part--a natural trumpet, no valves, basically a big bugle, able to hit all the notes, at the highest register, through bending notes with the embacheure. The horn, reputedly, is insanely difficult to play (as is much of Bach) as is testified to by the fact that, after the Baroque period, there would be no such trumpet parts for over a hundred years--because nobody knew how to play them.
Parenthetically, this is the only guy I could find that can do it. Even original instrument ensembles, like the Freiburger or the NBS gang, cheat, adding holes to the horn that help keep it in tune:
("Watch on YouTube" link works)
Anyway, I didn't go on, because I didn't want to be absurdly pedantic, and also because my mouth would soon be otherwise occupied.
I did suggest, to Kelly, that they should let people come in and just hang out. The chair itself is very cool, comfortable and adjustable, with the TV over your face, and, especially, with the nitrous oxide. Do you want the nitrous? She asked. I hate to be a sissy, I said, but, if it doesn't get in your way, sure.
So she hooked it up. I'll set it at 20% she said, and I said, Go ahead and crank it. I can handle it. She laughed and turned the knob.
Anyway. Dr. A came in to do a quick check, and I told him what I had just told Kelly, about the chair and the TV and the nitrous. I don't need it, I said. It's more recreational.
He laughed and told a little story about a a dental conference or seminar or something he had attended, where all the doctors were given really high doses of nitrous oxide, so they could understand what it was like. He said that some of them had gotten a little woozy, but most just wanted to hang out for a while. Maybe a generational thing, I said, explaining to Kelly.
And I thought: here's a comic scene for a movie--a dentist convention that needs to stock up on tanks and tanks of nitrous oxide, with all the doctors hanging out and getting high.
Anyway.
So, just home from the dentist, a bi-annual cleaning, and I had a question, and then realized I could get an answer, and so called the office.
A really quick and dumb question, I said, but I just had a cleaning, and Kelly did the fluoride thing, and . . . Can i have a cup of coffee? Or was I supposed to wait for a while. The girl laughed, and said coffee was ok, if it wasn't too hot. Thanks, I said, and felt good about, enjoyed, this little bit of dialogue.
At the dentist, in the chair, I was a little chatty. Above the chair, on a swivel arm, was a TV screen. (Do we really need to be watching TV all the time? At the grocery store? At a gas pump?) On the screen was Pandora, and the playlist was Easy--now playing Elton John. Is this music OK? Kelly asked. Whatever you like, I said, and then, since she asked, said, or you could type in JS Bach.
Brandenburg 2 came on. Where's he from? Kelly asked. Germany, I said. This would be around 1720.
And I considered a little lecture on the trumpet part--a natural trumpet, no valves, basically a big bugle, able to hit all the notes, at the highest register, through bending notes with the embacheure. The horn, reputedly, is insanely difficult to play (as is much of Bach) as is testified to by the fact that, after the Baroque period, there would be no such trumpet parts for over a hundred years--because nobody knew how to play them.
Parenthetically, this is the only guy I could find that can do it. Even original instrument ensembles, like the Freiburger or the NBS gang, cheat, adding holes to the horn that help keep it in tune:
Anyway, I didn't go on, because I didn't want to be absurdly pedantic, and also because my mouth would soon be otherwise occupied.
I did suggest, to Kelly, that they should let people come in and just hang out. The chair itself is very cool, comfortable and adjustable, with the TV over your face, and, especially, with the nitrous oxide. Do you want the nitrous? She asked. I hate to be a sissy, I said, but, if it doesn't get in your way, sure.
So she hooked it up. I'll set it at 20% she said, and I said, Go ahead and crank it. I can handle it. She laughed and turned the knob.
Anyway. Dr. A came in to do a quick check, and I told him what I had just told Kelly, about the chair and the TV and the nitrous. I don't need it, I said. It's more recreational.
He laughed and told a little story about a a dental conference or seminar or something he had attended, where all the doctors were given really high doses of nitrous oxide, so they could understand what it was like. He said that some of them had gotten a little woozy, but most just wanted to hang out for a while. Maybe a generational thing, I said, explaining to Kelly.
And I thought: here's a comic scene for a movie--a dentist convention that needs to stock up on tanks and tanks of nitrous oxide, with all the doctors hanging out and getting high.
Anyway.
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