When it comes to getting shots, the first time I remember fainting, I was 12. The hospital was 30 miles away and that gave my vivid imagination time to go into overdrive. Sitting in the back seat of the car, I remember looking up at the looming hospital building; after that, it went dark.
Wake up! Wake up! Nancy!
What! So I can pass out again, when they actually GIVE me the shot.
Waiting for Kristine while she sat in the dental chair, I spend 2 1/2 hours analyzing the location and people. For the first hour, everyone who entered the office only spoke Spanish. They nodded and smiled at me. The only other gringo who came in the office ignored everyone. Yes, it's the Barrio (Spanish pronunciation: [ˈbarjo]) is a Spanish word meaning district or neighborhood.. A small plaza of transported Mexican stores that I bravely ventured into alone. The Mexican-Americans or Chicanos eyeing me; as if, this solo gringo, is an illegal alien stepping across the border into Mexico.
But in this tiny Mexican shopping center, the dental office is a multicultural place with workers and clients from many continents: Asia, South America, Europe. I felt rather comfortable after a while; after all, it's a dentist office where families came to have the teeth of their children cleaned and maintained; no matter how poor the area or the people, we all had that in common.
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