1. Stood on a tooth
People stand on things all the time. Chewing gum, animal poo, mud, the ground. I could go on...
Standing on things is an inherent consequence of biped perambulation typically exhibited by humans. Yes, while you might see people wearing shoes on their hands if you go to Hay on the wrong weekday, we as humans tend to stand on things all the time.
Wearing shoes is a surefire approach to minimising the negative impact of standing on less desirable objects and I should say up front that I'm a staunch advocate of shoe wearing.
However this story is about an unfortunate protagonist (myself) standing barefoot on a human mandibular molar. For those of you playing along at home that's a tooth.
The story begins with a rather typically festive evening in London's West. A grotty and rather antipodean suburb called Hammersmith was the scene for the beginning of this tale; specifically inside a bar.
My good lady wife and myself had been purveyors in jollility that eve, with the occasion being the proximity of some good friends and the participation of Australia in the Football World Cup.
While Australia lost comprehensively that evening to Germany, our group had decided to celebrate simply being alive and together in another city. A few beers and a sneaky souvlaki later and we were ready to go home to our hotel in Chelsea.
Given our relative lack of funds and the unusual clarity and mildness of this particular London evening, our minds were made up to walk this 5km journey rather than take a cab or unlock the puzzle of the buses.
While this walk home involved a few small incidents, like a stop for Pringles at a random convenience store, a conversation with several groups of drunkards and a quick bathroom break down a side alley, the act of standing on a tooth is the one that stood out.
Like something out of a good Seinfeld episode, the event was the confluence of several small and seemingly insignificant events.
First, our choice to walk would have to be high on the list of such events. The fact that we'd been to Barcelona some weeks earlier also contributed.
While a trip to Barcelona is not usually enough to cause one to stand barefoot on a tooth in a completely different city in three weekends' time, this one was. After all, we had both purchased a new pair of canvas street shoes that made us look incredibly fashionable but required some 'wearing in'.
My wife was clad in said shoes this fateful evening. As to be expected, they were causing her some discomfort as the canvas struggled to give like a new pair of skinny jeans on a chunky clothing store saleswoman. This discomfort was the direct driver of the removal of said shoes from her feet.
Now being an empathetic and attentive boyfriend as I was/husband as I am, I elected to remove my shoes as well. I suppose it represented some (admittedly non-sensical) show of solidity in the face of adversity. You can see how this may have been a contributing factor.
The final factor that worked to drive a tooth into my foot was the yet-to-be-confirmed fact that a human had lost a tooth in the proximity of the exact footpath that I chose to walk on to complete my journey.
I believe that I must have stood on it for a while prior to noticing its intrusion, which may seem odd to someone who doesn't know what already blistered feet on asphalt feels like. But I soon figured out that the general blister pain was being accentuated by a rather acute digging sensation.
You can imagine my combined shock, disgust and (to be frank) awe at discovering the nature of the podiatric intruder. My wife between loud laughs and mouthfuls of Pringles identified it as a tooth, although I probably didn't need to be told.
As I mentally Googled what the potential consequences of someone else's tooth being embedded in the heel of my foot could present for me, the few hours between getting to bed and dawn slipped away.
I can't even tell you what happened to the tooth. I'd like to think some dishevelled street dweller came upon it quite by chance to complete his collection of human teeth.
What did I learn from this?
This situation was completely new to me and taught me a few things about the way the world works.
The first lesson is that a man standing on a tooth must appear hilarious to his partner.
Additionally, I was pleasantly surprised to note that the force of an 82kg man standing on a tooth isn't enough to force said tooth through the skin on his heel. For this I am glad.
I also learned what a mandibular molar is and what its root looks like when imprinted into my right foot.
But I'd be a fool to ignore the lesson that it's not a great idea to walk barefoot for 5km through London after 1am. It would seem obvious, no?
People stand on things all the time. Chewing gum, animal poo, mud, the ground. I could go on...
Standing on things is an inherent consequence of biped perambulation typically exhibited by humans. Yes, while you might see people wearing shoes on their hands if you go to Hay on the wrong weekday, we as humans tend to stand on things all the time.
Wearing shoes is a surefire approach to minimising the negative impact of standing on less desirable objects and I should say up front that I'm a staunch advocate of shoe wearing.
However this story is about an unfortunate protagonist (myself) standing barefoot on a human mandibular molar. For those of you playing along at home that's a tooth.
The story begins with a rather typically festive evening in London's West. A grotty and rather antipodean suburb called Hammersmith was the scene for the beginning of this tale; specifically inside a bar.
My good lady wife and myself had been purveyors in jollility that eve, with the occasion being the proximity of some good friends and the participation of Australia in the Football World Cup.
While Australia lost comprehensively that evening to Germany, our group had decided to celebrate simply being alive and together in another city. A few beers and a sneaky souvlaki later and we were ready to go home to our hotel in Chelsea.
Given our relative lack of funds and the unusual clarity and mildness of this particular London evening, our minds were made up to walk this 5km journey rather than take a cab or unlock the puzzle of the buses.
While this walk home involved a few small incidents, like a stop for Pringles at a random convenience store, a conversation with several groups of drunkards and a quick bathroom break down a side alley, the act of standing on a tooth is the one that stood out.
Like something out of a good Seinfeld episode, the event was the confluence of several small and seemingly insignificant events.
First, our choice to walk would have to be high on the list of such events. The fact that we'd been to Barcelona some weeks earlier also contributed.
While a trip to Barcelona is not usually enough to cause one to stand barefoot on a tooth in a completely different city in three weekends' time, this one was. After all, we had both purchased a new pair of canvas street shoes that made us look incredibly fashionable but required some 'wearing in'.
My wife was clad in said shoes this fateful evening. As to be expected, they were causing her some discomfort as the canvas struggled to give like a new pair of skinny jeans on a chunky clothing store saleswoman. This discomfort was the direct driver of the removal of said shoes from her feet.
Now being an empathetic and attentive boyfriend as I was/husband as I am, I elected to remove my shoes as well. I suppose it represented some (admittedly non-sensical) show of solidity in the face of adversity. You can see how this may have been a contributing factor.
The final factor that worked to drive a tooth into my foot was the yet-to-be-confirmed fact that a human had lost a tooth in the proximity of the exact footpath that I chose to walk on to complete my journey.
I believe that I must have stood on it for a while prior to noticing its intrusion, which may seem odd to someone who doesn't know what already blistered feet on asphalt feels like. But I soon figured out that the general blister pain was being accentuated by a rather acute digging sensation.
You can imagine my combined shock, disgust and (to be frank) awe at discovering the nature of the podiatric intruder. My wife between loud laughs and mouthfuls of Pringles identified it as a tooth, although I probably didn't need to be told.
As I mentally Googled what the potential consequences of someone else's tooth being embedded in the heel of my foot could present for me, the few hours between getting to bed and dawn slipped away.
I can't even tell you what happened to the tooth. I'd like to think some dishevelled street dweller came upon it quite by chance to complete his collection of human teeth.
What did I learn from this?
This situation was completely new to me and taught me a few things about the way the world works.
The first lesson is that a man standing on a tooth must appear hilarious to his partner.
Additionally, I was pleasantly surprised to note that the force of an 82kg man standing on a tooth isn't enough to force said tooth through the skin on his heel. For this I am glad.
I also learned what a mandibular molar is and what its root looks like when imprinted into my right foot.
But I'd be a fool to ignore the lesson that it's not a great idea to walk barefoot for 5km through London after 1am. It would seem obvious, no?
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