In response to the Weekly Writing Challenge which required something humorous, I decided to share a story I had kept hidden in the depths of my heart for a very long time.
It was a pretty Sunday and my father decided to take me to the dentist simply because it had been a while since I visited one. Obviously I hated the idea like every normal kid in the world. What’s worse, he isn’t the let’s-get-you-an-ice-cream-cuz-you-just-visited-the-dentist kinda dad either. What’s even worse, I was 16 and I still had an embarrassing habit of violently restraining the dentist’s hand the moment it advanced towards my mouth. But all that is not what scared me. What scared me was the fact that the only dentist my father trusted enough lived a long way from my house. And my father believes in a frugal lifestyle where one does not simply waste precious pennies on public transport unless it is absolutely necessary. He believes in walking for the better part of the journey. And I can assure you he didn’t give a damn about his daughter’s tender feet which could easily get tired.
Anyway, we ate our breakfast and set out towards our destination – the dentist. And we did exactly what I had feared. We boarded one bus, walked some distance, boarded another one, walked some more distance, took the metro, walked some more…
Wait a second. My life-shattering moment was on the way to the metro. So we got off the second bus and were walking (me struggling) towards the metro station. Despite my most sincere protests my father made me walk the whole way from the bus stand to the metro station, which I can assure you is not less. Plus, my father’s 15,000 km/hr speed made me exhaust all my strength in an attempt to keep up with him. As a result, I was so tired from the ordeal that I could barely see where we were going. So I blindly followed him without a care in the world for where he took me. Of course, he couldn’t care less about what I was going through. As long as he took me to the dentist without me getting lost on the way or trampled by a vehicle, he was a successful father.
Where was I? Yeah..so I was following him blindly and dazedly and suddenly I found myself walking through the metal detector after him. Oh, I mean the MEN’S metal detector. What else is left to say? There I stood, in the men’s section, faced by a huge man who was running his detector down every man’s body. Too bad I only snapped out of my daze when I realized that I was standing before a strange man who had his hand raised to check me up and down, obviously expecting a man. He was as dumbfounded as I was and could say no more than a perplexed but amused “Madam?”.
It suddenly felt like every eye in the world was on me, heating my face up with its glare. I do not have to explain the extent of my embarrassment, do I? Without a word (I couldn’t have moved my tongue with a gun pointed at my head), I side-stepped the man and his still raised hand with a nonchalance that suggested I did this every other day, and followed my father (not at all blindly) who was walking ahead of me, as clueless as a lamb. He just had no idea. And he still doesn’t.
I think I heard some laughter behind.
Too shocked to open my mouth, I just stood wide-eyed behind my father, waiting for the metro. My heart beat faster than a hummingbird.
No, even after so much time I CANNOT look back at that incident and laugh about it. But I guessed you might. Did you?