We’ve flown from Miami to Atlanta and back, and we’re waiting for the plane to take us to Nashville, when I look down and spot a hole in my pantyhose. I rummage in my suitcase, but no nail polish for repair work.

Well crap.

I glare at the ruined hose (no I don’t have a spare) and get an idea. I’ll use the sticky strip of a Band-Aid, tuck it in the hole and tape the raw edges of nylon together. Oh yeah, great idea.

I duck in the ladies, but can’t tear the Band-Aid apart with my hands, so I use my teeth.

Did I mention veneers?

Yep, four fake covers, front and center, so ex-hubby wouldn’t call me Fang.

Did it work?

Not exactly, but I don’t miss the gap, the canines or ex-hubby, only it’s been twenty years and I’ve forgotten those darn things have a life span. I clamp the end of the Band-Aid between my teeth and yank.

There’s a sharp crack and something clatters into the sink. My eyes shoot to the mirror.


“Are you alright?” Asks a mother as she claps her hands over her daughter’s ears.

“Fine.” I give her a weak smile and glance back at my image. 


“Are you sure you’re alright?” She scoots her child closer to the exit.

“Thowy.” I flap my arms and stare at the wreckage. The gap is back, but now it’s bracketed by the remains of the veneers. 


After the mother flees the restroom, I slink back to the gate with my hand cupped over my mouth. “I don’t fink I can go.”

“What?” Ask my co-workers. 

I give the crew a sick smile. They laugh and I slap my hand back over my mouth. There’s nothing I can do but join the laughter, dig out my cell, and call crew schedule.

“What?” say’s John, annoyed because we only call with problems.

“I just bwoke my two fwont teeth.” I launch into the story and he starts to chuckle. “Tho,” I ask, “do you have a fwight attendant who can finith my twip?”

“Just a sec.” 

I roll my eyes and check my watch. We’re due to board in five minutes.

“This is Claire, so why can’t you fly your trip?”

Another scheduler? I sigh and start again. “I bwoke my fwont teeth.” 

Claire chokes out a laugh and John comes back on the line. “Okay, I don’t have anyone at the airport, but I’ll take you off the trip and call someone else in.”

Crap, that’ll take hours. “No, I’ll fwy to Nathville. Can you wemove me when we get back to Miami?”

“Sure,” he says, delighted the plane will leave on time. “How bout I deadhead you home on an earlier flight?”

“Uh.” There’s nothing wrong with my math skills and an eight-hour layover is brutal. “Naw, I’ll wook back to Miami.”

“Deal, I’ll have a replacement finish the trip, have a nice flight.”

We board the 737 and I’m working first class, so instead of a verbal greeting, I nod and bob my head. Passengers aren’t stupid, they’ve watched our laughing antics behind the gate and they know something’s up.

Well, I don’t want to be rude so after we level off, I stomp into the cabin and hold the serving tray like a fan to cover my mouth. “I bwoke my fwont teeth. Make me waugh and you go to coach.”

Grins break out and eyes twinkle. Have I told you before that passengers are wicked? Yep, downright evil and 3B, you know who you are and Karma’s coming to get you.

27 Replies to “Teef”

  1. I have a front bridge, so I know how frightening a break can be for both me and them!! You did very well holding things together in spite of the it all!

  2. Thanks for the laugh – the bitter cold (-30 windchill) has taken the humor out of the day, but you but you managed to put it back.

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