Drug Test, Schmug Test

Alright, kids. I finally did it. I finally buckled down. I gave up my moaning, my groaning and my hopes of becoming a hobo. I got the job.

My first day was Sunday. Easy, Easy, Easy.

I have to admit, I was scared that they were going to make me do a drug test.

Not because I do drugs. I don't.

Rather, because of an unfortunate drug test experience I once had.

It was fall of 2006. I had just moved up to Tampa for my first semester at USF. I didn't really know a whole lot of people up here, and I figured I would just kinda do something on my own and apply to work at Howl-O-Scream. (See Previous Blog Posts)

So there I was, filling out paper work to be some sort of ghoul or demon and they asked if I could do a drug test. No problem.



Boy, was I ever wrong.

I walked down this rinky-dink road to some motor home shack stationed out in the middle of nowhere in some corner on Busch Gardens' ground. I walked up the creaky stairs and into this room where several people sat waiting.

"Are you going to need help going pee?" some creepy Chinese guy asked me.

"Excuse me?" I responded.

He was scrawny. His hair was too short. I looked at the book in his hand: The Life of Pi. This could be nothing good.

"Oh, I didn't mean to scare you," he replied.

"I think I have it under control," I said as I took my seat. Far, far away.

I waited for about 10 minutes, and a nurse called out my name. I followed her to this back room where the Chinese guy waited.

He handed me a cup, a very large cup, and instructed me to pee in it.

Well, wasn't that just perfect?

He took me across the small room to a stall. Yes, I had a stall all to myself.

He stepped back and waited.

AWKWARD.

I took a deep breath and told myself it was no big deal that he was in the same room. Listening. And being creepy.

So I proceeded to attempt filling the cup. That's when he started talking to me.

Needless to say, I could not do it. I could not pee with some strange man talking to me through a small, thin stall door. For all I knew, he was one of those weirdies with some pee fetish. It only makes sense.



So I was escorted back to the waiting room, where I chugged a bottle of water. I needed to get out of this place. And fast.

I grabbed the cup from the Chinese guy and peed as quickly as possible.

And then, to my horror, he started to touch my hair.

But I had to let him. Because he needed a hair sample. A LOT of hair. Three big chunks from the base of my head, to be exact.

Now, this was a horrifying experience for me. And it only got worse.

I was at school the next day, the first day of classes. I was sitting on this bench reading a newspaper by the Burger King waiting for my lecture hall to open up, when I happened to glance up and none one other than the Chinese guy was walking by! I quickly looked back down, praying to God he didn't see me.

Out of all of the people on campus, why, oh why, did I have to run into him?!

He didn't stop, so I figured I was ok. About 15 minutes later, the lecture hall was cleared out, so I stood up to make my way over. I looked over by the Burger King tables.

There he was. The Chinese guy. He was just standing there, watching.

And that's my creepy Chinese guy drug test story.