Monthly Archives: May 2001

After Two Years, Nine Months, and Thirty Days…

It wasn’t as dramatic as I thought it would be.

I thought there would be this ominous music playing, taps perhaps.  I thought it would be like walking down death row to my execution chamber.  Instead it’s just me walking alone through the empty hangar halls of LaGuardia airport, my steps echoing all over.  My invisible preacher reads passages from the Bible as I follow the directions down the stairs, around the corner, and I start to feel the acceptance of whatever is about to happen.  If I fail and get fired, that’ll be okay.  Maybe that’s just what I need to get myself going with my photography or writing.  I had thought earlier today about quitting anyways, so why should I be so worried about getting fired?  Whatever the outcome, I have already benefited from this experience.  I’ve been to some amazing places, lived in a great city, made some brilliant friends, and slept with some hot girls.  For the past five minutes of this lonely stroll, I’ve been evaluating and reevaluating my life and path.  I’ll stay in New York as long as I can afford to, which may not be that long.  The only thing I can see that would be bad about all this is explaining it to my mom.  I think I’d just tell her I quit.

I make my way down to the foreign hall until I find the bathroom next to the Medical Room.  I’m not sure if this is the place, but a voice from behind me asks if I’m here for the drug test.  I say I am and walk into the bathroom/drug testing room.  I fill out a couple of forms and wash my hands in the sink.  I had just pissed when we were landing about fifteen minutes ago so I really didn’t need to go, despite the fact that I’ve been guzzling whatever liquid I could find ever since I found out I was getting tested.  I tell the guy this and he says I have three hours but if I can’t go in thirty minutes he has to call my supervisor for some reason.  That gives me until 10pm; I think that’s more than enough time.  I try to make small talk with the guy but he’s been here all day and just wants to go home.  He says he can leave as soon as I’m done.  He looks like the “time to make the donuts” guy; I guess even he has to sleep sometime.  I sit down on a bench next to him and wait for that pressured feeling from below.  It’s a little awkward so I make frequent trips to the water fountain.  I have nearly saturated my body with water; I can’t take anymore.  I grab my plastic cup and head into the bathroom.  The room is deathly quiet.  The only thing I can hear is the guy’s radio playing easy listening favorites.  I’d ask if I could run the faucet to speed things up but after I washed my hands he taped them all up.  I don’t need to pee at all but I pray to God that the feeling will come soon and urine from heaven will somehow escape my body.  I’m nervous, that doesn’t help.  I know I’m keeping this guy from his bed or family, that doesn’t help either.  I stand there with my pants down for five minutes, too embarrassed to go back to the sitting room just feet away.  I know it’s pointless for me to stand there so I swallow my pride, zip up, and walk out.  The guy looks relieved to see me come out but then the look turns to disappointment when he sees the empty cup.  I apologize and go out for more water.  I have fifteen minutes before 10pm.  He says he has to start monitoring my liquid intake from now on.  I’m allowed forty more ounces and that’s it.  My girlfriend comes down to the drug testing room to see what’s taking me.  We’re supposed to share a cab into the city.  She’s more worried about the test than I am.  I struggle through the forty ounces.  Those were forty ounces I didn’t think I had room in my stomach for.  I have never drank so much water in my life.  I’m starting to get drunk from the excess.  I’m getting nauseous but I know I have to keep drinking.  I still don’t feel like I can piss so I try talking to the guy again.  The Mavs and Spurs are playing tonight so I ask him if he has heard a score.  He doesn’t watch professional basketball he tells me.  I sit back down on the bench and he calls his family to tell him that he’s going to be later than what he had expected.  I can picture a nice family of five waiting patiently at the dinner table with food prepared and right in front of their noses, growing increasingly cold.  The kids are begging mom to let them eat because they’re ever so hungry.  She says No, not til Daddy gets home, even if it takes all night.  I go back into the stall and pray to the urine god to let me piss out just enough to get me and him and GIRL out of here.  I make religious promises and I’m being serious about keeping them.  I don’t even care if there are drugs in my piss, I just want to go and get out.  Finally I feel like there’s a chance.  I grab the cup and hold it in place.  My hand is shaking I’m so messed up from the massive water intake.  It starts off slow but then flows like a mighty river.  I collect the minimum and then triple that.  I flush the rest down the toilet and go back to the guy, beaming with pride.  He doesn’t seem as happy as I thought he would.  I guess I was expecting balloons, whistles, and all of my friends with noisemakers and confetti.  He seals up the container and makes me sign the label.  He puts it in a FedEx envelope and then I’m off.  I get GIRL from upstairs and before I know it I’m in a cab on the Williamsburg Bridge needing to piss again.  For the next two hours I’m constantly pissing out crystal clear liquid.  There is no way this urine has any chemicals in it, I wish this was my sample.  The one I turned in was more yellow.