Calling Doctor Air Vent

Some weeks ago, my sister saw a coupon for duct cleaning service - a full cleaning of 7 ducts for $30 from a company called…wait for it… Doctor Air Duct. Since our vents looked like the Amazon underbrush we decided it would be a good idea.

The appointment day came and I spotted the van pulling up. I took off my apron, cleaned my hands and went downstairs to open the door. Two men came toward the house. The first, a dark, slim man from Israel, extended his hand and introduced himself as the owner of the company. He must have been Doctor Air Vent. Behind him stood his assistant, a not-quite as slim, blond man who I dubbed, “Nurse” Air Vent. After the introduction, in which my name was inexplicably changed to “Bernice,” the two got to work. Doctor Air Vent hoisted a heavy wooden box on his back and began to climb the stairs to my apartment. The box looked heavy and I felt bad for him. In retrospect I should have kicked him down the stairs and let the box crush his legs. But hindsight is always 20/20 as they say.

They had just made it to the top of the stairs when my neighbor returned from walking his two dogs. I told him the men were here to clean my air vents. He waited at the bottom of the stairs smiling politely. As soon as the servicemen vanished inside, he rushed up the stairs and poked me on the shoulder.

“Their hose is taped together,” he said in an urgent whisper. He then gave me this look that clearly indicated his feelings on taped hoses. After a moment he continued. “Well, let me know if they’re any good. I was thinking of having my vents cleaned again.”

“Oh,” I said, “you’ve had them cleaned before?”

“Oh, yeah! These apartments used to be where all the druggies, prostitutes and drag queens lived. Oh my god, they were horrible. When I first moved in I had all the ducts cleaned.”

He closed his door. I stood there, my mind now filled with the image of a coked up prostitute hanging an, “open for business” sign outside my bedroom window while her drag queen roommate lay on the floor unconscious.

Back inside I found Nurse Air Vent staring up at the wall.

“Your ducts are painted shut,” he told me. I waited for a follow-up comment such as, “I’ll have to pry them open” but he just stood there staring at me like a trout. A good ten seconds passed in silence.

“Ok-ay,” I responded stiffly, “get something to pry them open with.” I quickly suggested an old knife but Nurse Air Vent said he had a scraping device he used for such occasions.

Good gravy.

If he had this do-hickey the whole time then why hadn’t he told me? Was he testing me? Was this some kind of Air Vent exam?

Now I am annoyed. I went to the computer room to respond to some e-mails.

I was mid-way through an e-mail, when Nurse Air Vent proclaimed “that’s disgusting” and I heard something being dropped in the toilet. I stood up to investigate when the men came out of the bathroom. Doctor Air Vent informed me that my ducts were the dirtiest he’d ever seen.

“They are completely clogged with hair,” he said.

As he held up a huge black hairball, I got an image of the girl from The Grudge crawling through my air ducts and scaring away the prostitute’s clients.

“It’s not my hair,” I said. This wasn’t helpful but I felt obliged to clarify the point as if having someone else’s hair in my vent was somehow less disgusting. I head back to my e-mail.

“Oh, you can’t stay here,” Doctor Air Vent told me hauling a ladder into the room. “We need to disinfect.” He seemed solemn, like a surgeon looking at an X-ray of cancer ridden lung. “You need to leave or you could choke.”

“You’re going to spray something in my vent? Won’t I breathe that?”

“We use all natural products,” Air Vent MD said rather quickly.

For a moment I thought about telling him that lead and mercury were “all natural” products but I decided that wasn’t a very helpful attitude. I left the room and sat on the sofa.

After a few minutes, the men had finished every room except for the one where I was seated. As I watched, they attached the taped hose to the wooden box and stuck the opposite end (which was shaped like a feather duster) into the vent. Nurse Air Vent walked over to the box and bent down. As his hand reached out for the ON switch, I looked at the feather duster and back down at the box.

You see, I was under the impression that they had been vacuuming the ducts clean but now I saw that the box housed a pump. There was a brief moment of calm before it really sunk in. I leapt to my feet just as the device was turned on and a stream of black dust shot out of the vent and onto my face. I looked around in horror as it coated my PS3, all my DVDs and blanketed the floor.

I tried to yell at them to stop but as soon as I opened my mouth I started to cough. I had to go out in the hallway and wait for the dust to settle.

When I came back in Doctor Air Vent had pulled out my filter. It was covered with course, black hairballs. He showed it to me and started to explain that there was a lot of hair lodged in such a small filter. It didn’t matter. The drag queen could have been lodged in the filter for all I cared. Considering the amount of hair that came out I’m surprised she wasn’t.

“There is dust everywhere!” I snapped.

Doctor Air Vent seemed surprised.

“Your vents were really dirty” he said nodding. “But don’t worry, we are used to it.”

I was livid. I shut my eyes and stood stone still, unable to respond. I imagined shoving the hairballs down Doctor Air Vent’s throat.

“Auuuggg,” he would gurgle and I would laugh. Perhaps I would give Nurse Air Vent to the crack whore.

“Are you going to clean this up,” I said trying to keep my tone light and sweet.

I failed.

“Yes,” they both cried out. Then, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Doctor Air Vent timidly asked if I had a broom. Why he didn’t carry a broom on him was beyond me. Considering the nature of his business consisted of ejecting refuse into people’s living rooms, he should have had one handy. Then again, perhaps his other customers enjoyed squalor? Maybe they liked a nice thick coat of black soot over their sensitive electronics and grooming appliances? I sure didn’t, but it takes all kinds.

At any rate the quack was lucky I didn’t have a broom on me ‘cus I would have made him sit on it.

Seeing my expression, the nurse rushed into another room and began to screw the vents back in place. I grabbed some disinfecting wipes and began to clean off my electronics. Suddenly it dawned on me that this is what they had been doing the whole time. I steeled myself and did quick turn around the house. Sure enough, there was a thick coating of black soot over everything in every room.

I freaked out.

Air Vent Md unhooked his hose and proceeded to blow a black cloud of dust out into the hallway. (For those of you who have played Skyward Sword, imagine Link with his Gust Bellow at Pip’s mother’s house.) He failed and it got lodged underneath my welcome mat. I gave him a withering look and he gave me a weak smile.

To their credit, Doctor and Nurse Air Vent stayed with me until the floors were cleaned. I felt bad for them after a while and let them leave. I proceed to clean the dust off all the surfaces, wash the towels and boil the toothbrushes (which were coated in black soot.)

After two hours of grueling cleaning I had to concede to nature’s call. I opened the toilet and found a nasty, fat, hair ball staring up at me.

It was the last straw. I started crying and texted my sister to come home as soon as possible. I gave up cleaning, made a pot of tea and watched “Keeping Up Appearances.”

When I had calmed down, I ran to my neighbor and told him all about my vent debacle. Holding one chocolate brown daschund under his arm he listened very politely until I had exhausted myself. As we parted ways he got this naughty smile.

“Well,” he said, “at least your vents are clean.”