We were discussing Worst Case Scenario UCT varsity stories the other day.
Like the guy who went bush diving after a large night and nose-dived into a tap, unwittingly hidden by said foliage. Ouch motherfucker.
I was 19. I'd been at varsity for a grand total of three days, thoroughly enjoying the fruits of orientation week (snogging, boozing, etc, etc), when I got invited to a yukka party at a male res. (Yukka is vodka punch) My mate and I obviously drank a shitload, and then someone bought out the golf clubs.
One oke had the driver (the big guy with the largest, um head, on the end), under his arm, and swiftly turned, accidentally smacking me in the face with it.
It split my lip, but as I put my hand up to stop the blood, I found my front fucking tooth there instead.
It's midnight, and I suddenly I have no front tooth.
In our inebriated states, my friend and I missioned off to find super glue, thinking this would solve the problem. Bearing in mind, my parents have spent a small fortune on my teeth – braces, headgear in Std 6 (oh my Christ), all wisdom teeth removed so that I don't get buck teeth, and a retainer in high school.
One of the more sober medic students stuffed me in his car and drove me to Groote Schuur, and once there, burst into the operating theatre asking for an 'emergency dentist', while some intern was performing his first triple by-pass, or the likes thereof.
Fucking inconsiderate, on looking back.
The tears rolled. I mean, have you seen Jim Carrey in Dumb & Dumber? And tell me, would you want to look like that for two and a half seconds?
No luck at the hospital. In the process, I lost my wallet, cellphone (at that stage an Alcatel – the beauty with the retractable aerial that looks like a grey brick), and my room keys.
I woke up, without a front tooth – oh wow, fitting into the Cape Coloured community already – in a random mate's room. Not remembering what happened the night before – completely disorientated, I drew in my first breath, but the exposed nerves of my half-tooth nearly made me pass out.
You haven't experienced loser's complex until you've:
a) woken up without your front chomper
b) lost your cellphone
c)lost your keys
d)Don't know where you live, and henceforth sleeping in another person's room
e)Lost your Bob T card with total month's riches of R500 – sufficient for a first year - somehow, with Barney's selling shots at R2, you got by.
f)with no clue what happened the night before – the last thing you remember are golf clubs
I found my room, discovered I had no key, no cell phone (and with R20 Pay As You Go airtime, some fucker got lucky), no clue – had to fork out thirty whole ront to the house committee to cut the bolt of my door.
Toothless and irate.
I asked my friend where my elusive front tooth was, thinking maybe they could botch my incisor back together somehow. She told me she threw it out the window, it was no good to me anymore. Beautiful. My tooth was on upper campus somewhere.
Phoned my irate mother in Natal who was so pissed off (“But your teeth Peas! Jesus, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PISSED OFF I AM RIGHT NOW?? What in God's name were you doing that you lost your front tooth?”) Golf, mum. It was organised by the vice-chancellor, Graҫa Machel, remember her?... as an organised team-building event.
She didn't talk to me for two weeks, only dispositing enough cash to get it the fuck fixed by a dentist.
I had to register my courses the next day. Without a tooth. I queued with my hand over my mouth. I chose my subjects with my hand over my mouth. (“OK, let's see: psychology, media studies, language, zoology, fine, whatever! I need to go to the dentist. Excuse me.”)
The dentist stuffed three large pins into my tooth to build a cap. He also injected me eight times in my palate for the pain, and before that stuffed a mask over my face with laughing gas. (It was a gas.)
After the dentist, I had to get my student card and picture done. Problem was, my entire face was numb and immovable. I drooled during the entire session, while my mates reminded me every five minutes: “Wipe.”
Lady: Student number please.
Peas: Hmmmph phhhive jusyrt phhree.
Lady: Fucking first year's. Always drunk.
Peas: Buh I NOT druh!
Lady: Face the camera please. And wipe your chin. There appears to be fluid on it.
I had to cancel my one and only FNB Bob T card from losing all my stuff, and get a new Alcatel.