Delaying the inevitable. . .

At last, there were no more excuses and there was some down time at the hotel, so off I went to get my first root canal.

As a young buck, I had all but two of my baby teeth pulled by Dr. Roth, a very nice kid's dentist (though at the time, I thought he was a sadistic little man) as the roots of my teeth were deeper than the norm.

Hence the fear of a root canal.

"No necessito preoccupado," said my regular dentist.

"Todo bien, no hay problema," said the assistant.

"Suck it up, buttercup," said the art department.