Road Report #1: Trouble Before the Tires Even Hit the Pavement

Twice a year I go on a recruiting trip for work. It's starting to become routine with few problems. I'm sorry to say this trip has already taken a turn as scary as Harry Potter heading into the Forbidden Forest.

An hour before my intended departure to Michigan for two weeks part of my front tooth fell off. Yes, I said fell off. One might say chip, but the piece missing from my front tooth was much larger than one often refers to as a chip. A chip is chipper. This was a chunk. A funky chunk.

To those of you who do not know, one fateful day in fourth grade I challenged a friend to a bicycle race up the street. Not only did I lose the race when I skidded into a patch of sand and slammed into the pavement, but I also lost the bottom half of one of my front teeth thanks to the handlebar. I can still remember the traumatic moment when I first saw myself with a broken tooth smile. I screamed bloody murder.

Since that dreadful day 15 years ago, I have regular nightmares of my front tooth breaking out again and again. Sometimes I lose all my teeth. It's very scary. So when I suddenly felt a large piece of enamel in my mouth (that was then swallowed and is still lodged in my throat) it was a nightmare come true. Even worse was my slated absence from home for the next five weeks, and even more concerning--my upcoming wedding.

Tears were shed, fits were thrown, but eventually a solution was found. I delayed my trip one day and had my tooth repaired this morning. While I was very upset to miss a stop on my trip, I knew that I would not have much luck persuading large groups of people with the look I had going. So yesterday was spent in Chicago wallowing in despair that the repair job would leave me looking like a hungry rabbit and today was spent at my dentist's office. Much to my relief and yours, I left with a front tooth even better than the last.

I had hoped my toothy fiasco meant smooth sailing ahead, however, upon my arrival in Michigan I found my hotel room for the next seven nights doesn't have Bravo or MTV. No Project Runway. No Hills. And the tooth chunk is still lodged in my throat. This trip may be cursed. Stay tuned to find out.