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the clinicYou know there is nothing wrong with what I'm doing here. I'm beingresponsible in a very irresponsible world and really I hope that any girl I may...encounter in the future will be appreciative of what I'm doing and maybe even takethe initiative to do it herself. This is the right thing... This is what goodpeople who care about others DO! Right? Of course I'm right...At least that's what I kept telling myself during my speed walk to building850 on Barret Avenue. It was a beautiful, sunny, Tuesday morning; it was 10:30am.I had skipped breakfast in my haste to get there on time. As it was I was laterthan the website had instructed me to arrive. The clinic opened on Tuesdays ataround 8am and showing up even earlier than that was advised due to the shortstaff to patient ratio. I walked to the entrance of the Parking Lot where therewas a sign that said,"Visitors park at your own risk. We are not responsible for anything stolen orbroken."That was comforting... I'm glad I parked on the street. Is my car safe there? Ididn't lock the doors, but I don't really have anything to steal. But who knowswhat kind of assholes may be lurking about, waiting in an ally to just break outmy windows and maybe take a shit in my drivers seat. "THE DOORS WERE UNLOCKED YOUFUCKING SICKOS! DID YOU HAVE TO BREAK MY WINDOWS!?" but they would have to...anyone can open an unlocked door and take a shit, but breaking out all of thewindows really makes a statement at 10:30 in the morning. I was probably safe. Ihoped.I wasn't used to this part of town. It wasn't a place you would want to findyourself at night. Especially being well dressed, well to do, high strung whitekid from a peaceful neighborhood way outside the city. I carried myself well. Actnatural and no one will even notice how terrified you are.I guess you could say that I'm extremely paranoid about most things. Not likea paranoid schizophrenic or anything. I don't hear voices. Well not voices thataren't my own. One voice. Everyone has that voice of reason don't they? Could itbe that I had been a paranoid schizophrenic this whole time and it had never beendiagnosed? Maybe I just handle it better than others. Maybe... or maybe not.I reached the steps that led up to the reinforced glass double doors of theclinic. Building 850. This was the place alright. I walked in and lobby lookedlike any other government building; Dim lighting, generic furniture that I amconvinced they mass produce just for places like this, the air was stale and dampand nobody was around. There was a billboard on the wall to the left of theentrance."3rd Floor: Specialty Clinic and Aids testing. room 301"Jesus Christ! Why don't you spell it right out there! I'm not one of those! I justwant to be safe. I'm just doing the right thing. I just got a bug bite in thewrong place and decided, "Hey! this is my chance to do what the commercials tellme to do.""One in every four people in America has herpes... or Aids... or Chlamydia... Orsyphilis... or cancer... the plague... an infected hang nail... Erectiledysfunction... Allergies... periods... depression... anxiety... anxiety...anxiety..."I was afraid of all of these worse than death. I'm not afraid of death. I amafraid of living life any more miserably then I have to. Life was hard enoughwithout worrying all the time if you had the latest strain of bird flu virus.Maybe I watch too much television.

I took the elevator to the third floor. Room 301 was to my immediate right.There was a sign next to the door that said there was no food or drinks allowed inthe waiting room. So I chugged what was left of my Red bull and tossed it in thewaste basket next to a bench they had directly across from the elevators. It wastime. I gripped the metal handle and slowly pushed the door open. The door creakedand I was immediately met with 20 sets of eyes all staring back at me. I was allat once, the only white person in the room. Don't get me wrong... I'm no racist...but there is something very unnerving about being the only white guy in a roomfull of black people. Not to mention the fact that racism is a two way street. Itwas entirely possible that everyone in there was racist and I may have beeninadvertently pissing all of them off. I didn't want any trouble... I was doingthe right thing.The door slammed shut behind me and I was startled by the echo that resonatedthrough the room. Find a seat. Where to sit? Why is everyone still looking at me?There was a chair in the back row furthest from the TV but closest to thereceptionist window and it had two buffer chairs on either side of it. Wait. Am Isupposed to sign in?I looked over to the first set of eyes that locked with mine. An older guywith a cane."Excuse me sir, but do I have to sign in or how does this place work?""Yeah you have to sign in at the front right there." and he gestured towardthe receptionist. Of course you had to sign in! What a stupid question. How elsewere they supposed to know you were there?I got up from my seat and walked toward the desk where there was an old ladyworking on some kind of paper work. It could have been busy work. Her job wasprobably like any other job. Try and look busy and get paid at the end of theweek."Excuse me ma'am but I need to sign in."She didn't even look up from what she was doing. She just put a clipboard inthe window and told me to fill it out and sign at the X's. Fair enough. I took theclipboard and went back to my seat. I filled out my name, address, social securitynumber, date of birth, emergency contacts, and check marked the box "STD exam"which I assumed covered all of it. I wanted to be very sure that I didn't have anyof it. I brought the clipboard back and she handed me a numbered ticket like you'dfind deli or busy restaurant. Number F72."How long do you think I will have to wait?" I asked her trying to sound aspolite as possible."Maybe 20 minutes or so." She said without expression or emotion. What hasthis place done to this sweet old lady? Was she always this callused? Is she justhaving a bad day?I went back to my seat. The Price is Right was on the TV. I reached into mypocket to fiddle around with my cell phone and pulled out my pack of cigarettes toget to it. The man with the cane asked me for one of them so I gave him the lastone in the pack. I had an unopened pack in my other pocket. He didn't get up rightaway to smoke it. He just tucked it behind his ear. Probably for security. Wewould all need a cigarette by the time this was all said and done. I know I couldhave used on then."Ahhh! He went over! He lost!" Someone closer to the TV was thinking out loud,responding to whatever was going on in the world of "The Price is Right".I couldn't pay attention to the TV. I was stuck on the posters that coveredthe walls of this waiting room. One of them had a caption that read, "How manypeople did you say you slept with?" It had a picture of a couple holding each

other and two arrows that pointed out toward 3 other individual silhouettes one ofwhich was branded with the letters STD and from each of those characters werethree more arrows pointing to other silhouettes that had arrows pointing to evenmore make believe people. This chart could go on forever! It was like a giantfamily tree of fucking! It was scary to think about. Maybe that was the point.The door creaked open and in stumbled this gimp, white, lady/man, mulletwearing, obvious meth head. Her eyes were sunken in and vacant. Where did shethink she was? She hobbled over to the receptionist and started to sign in. As shetook her seat a large black woman with crew cut short, bleached blonde hair, pinkspandex running shorts and a matching pink shirt walked in, went to the front andtook a seat next to me."What's the Date?" she asked me."It's the 14th.""What's the month? 7 or 8?""It's 08/14/08." I remember thinking... Jesus, how could you forget the monththis far into it? The month is half way over and its news to this woman. Just mindyour business... Don't try and make conversation. Lets just get out of here asfast and as painless as possible."You know who you look like?" the giant pink spandex lady asked me."No." I said"You look like that guy on The Young and The Restless""Is that a good thing?""Shit! As long as you's gettin' paid it is!" (I wasn't.)"I've never seen it.""You ain't never seen it?""Nope""Well you look just like him.""Great"I turned my attention away from the lady, which was quite hard considering thefact that she was sitting right next to me. She then turned her attention to thegimp he/she sitting across from us."And you look like my cousin Rae Rae! Has any one ever told you that?" Thehe/she opened her eyes from what appeared to be a drug nap. "I have whitestepsisters... white stepsisters and stepbrothers and you look just like Rae Rae!Has anyone ever told you that?"The he/she looked pretty trashed but was interested in some conversation. "NoI ain't never been mistaken for no Rae Rae.""Well she looks just like you. Hey that's my nephew on the TV!" The Price isRight was over and had switched over to the local news. "He's a school boy. Iwonder what he is on there talkin about." He was talking about water sanitation or