9/2/2010 3:10:12 PM
what it might be like
I went to my doctor's appointment the other day. I've complained before that the office is so far away (45-50 min, but feels like longer because it's mostly just trees the whole way). We were sitting in the waiting room, my dad took me there--it was so quiet, we were the only ones there.
After I thought about it for a little while, I decided that they really did me a favor by sending me to that clinic...the clinic in the tiny town, out in the middle of nowhere. The tiny town with the quaint town square and a gazebo bandstand right in the middle. The town square that almost looks like a UniversalStudios set, only if it were a set it would be way spiffy and look like it was just built, but it's old and charming, except for the hardware store which just got a brand new coat of bright red paint.
Yes, that one.
Anyway, there is a clinic closer to where we live. In a much more populated area, and I can't get in there to save my life. Their appointments are currently three months out.
Sitting in the waiting room of the far clinic, I started to wonder what the closer clinic was like.
I bet it's loud, there are babies crying, snot bubbles, and croupy toddlers who haven't learned to cover their mouths when they cough. I bet there's a group of ladies speaking Spanish, a black lady who's pissed off because she's been waiting for over an hour, and two white women who look like they didn't even look in the mirror before they left the house. I see the germ infested children, with their booger faces, yelling and crying, and throwing things, crawling all over everything, touching everything--and old man sitting in the corner looking like he's pretty sure he's dead and now he's in Hell.
Yeah, I think, I'm going to stop trying to go to that clinic, and just keep going to the far one.
After I thought about it for a little while, I decided that they really did me a favor by sending me to that clinic...the clinic in the tiny town, out in the middle of nowhere. The tiny town with the quaint town square and a gazebo bandstand right in the middle. The town square that almost looks like a UniversalStudios set, only if it were a set it would be way spiffy and look like it was just built, but it's old and charming, except for the hardware store which just got a brand new coat of bright red paint.
Yes, that one.
Anyway, there is a clinic closer to where we live. In a much more populated area, and I can't get in there to save my life. Their appointments are currently three months out.
Sitting in the waiting room of the far clinic, I started to wonder what the closer clinic was like.
I bet it's loud, there are babies crying, snot bubbles, and croupy toddlers who haven't learned to cover their mouths when they cough. I bet there's a group of ladies speaking Spanish, a black lady who's pissed off because she's been waiting for over an hour, and two white women who look like they didn't even look in the mirror before they left the house. I see the germ infested children, with their booger faces, yelling and crying, and throwing things, crawling all over everything, touching everything--and old man sitting in the corner looking like he's pretty sure he's dead and now he's in Hell.
Yeah, I think, I'm going to stop trying to go to that clinic, and just keep going to the far one.