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Of all human activities, appointments with dentists are amongst the most pleasurable.

Tell me something I don't know, you say.

Well, I'm not just talking about the obvious enjoyment of laying down with your jaws wide open for what it seems like hours on end, while two strangers probe with drills, water jets, suction tubes, steel hooks, UV lamps, needles, x-ray contraptions, and other charming utensils evocative of the inquisition. There is also the gentle soundtrack (weeeeeeenkrrkrrweeeeeeenkrrkrr...) of the drills boring into your teeth, that you not only hear, but also feel as the drilling machine vibrations reverberate from your jaws to your skull. Accompanying this music, is the delightful scent of tooth ejecta -pulverized calcium.
Still, the best part of this experience is being completely trusting (not that you have a choice), hoping that the inquisitor -I mean, dentist- knows what he's doing, doesn't accidentally perforate the wrong tooth, or otherwise commits a maxilar aberration.

It makes perfect sense then, doesn't it, that we are willing to pay handsomely for this privilege.