And then there was the time I found a tooth in an ATM in Glasgow.

I practically heard you go, “A WHAT?!”

Yeah. A tooth.

That poor tooth.
That poor tooth.

My brother, Bryan, and sister-in-law, Laura, had just landed in Glasgow for a visit. I think stopping at the ATM was one of the first things we did after I got them settled at my flat and took them into city centre to explore.

There it was, sitting above the keypad, if I remember correctly.

How did it get there?

That’s what I’d like to know.

(Except I also kind of don’t.)

What I do know is that whatever happened, someone somewhere was going

Oh Shit

Lesson learned: Some things seem to only happen in Glasgow.