your first new york doctor's appointment

imagine this: you're on your way for your first appointment with your new doctor. you don't really know what to expect. you find the building (which has a very midtown address, so you give the guy some credit), and it looks like this:

"that doesn't look like an office building to me," you think, "but ok, i guess it makes sense for doctors' offices to be in unusual places in a city like this one. sure, this is totally normal."

you go inside, sign into what appears to be an apartment building's visitor log, and find the "suite" you're looking for. you turn the handle and walk in to see something like this:

"well..." you say to yourself, "big waiting rooms and good light fixtures must be expensive. i suppose i'd rather have him spending his money on proper certifications and good, sanitary equipment."

you fill out a form that looks like it was mimeographed on one of those crappy ditto machines that printed your elementary school worksheets. you know, with the patchy purple ink and the fixed-width font with huge serifs. you wait for way too long. there is some dude who may or may not be homeless sitting across from you, napping. by this point, you are thinking, "hey, i'm young and healthy. who really needs a doctor? a bunch of quacks, they are," and just as you're getting up to leave in a huff, Dr. Strangeoffice pokes his head out of the (also poorly lit) office and says he'll see you now. what do you do?

a) prance on in like the imp you are

b) turn and run the hell in the other direction

c) inform him (truthfully) that your "one-hour lunch break" is now approaching two full hours, and when you are fired from your job, your insurance will no longer pay for your visit, so you should really probably go.