My dad and I walked into the office: Suite 111, Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery. The walls were painted orange, Norah Jones was playing, and there was a red candle lit which made everything smell like apples. I sat, filled out some papers, sat some more, and my dad and I were finally ushered into an elegant little room where we watched a corny video about wisdom teeth and surgery.

"It's all bullshit." my dad said.

And it's true, isn't it? Nonetheless, I have a lovely little appointment card sitting in front of me for two and a half months from today.