Sometimes it's positive to be negative!

Somewhere over the last few years, I...have become...an adult.

Whoa. That's pretty weird. But it's true! And not only am I an adult, but a responsible one, capable of managing my life...you know....responsibly and adultish. Since I've been getting more and more comfortable with the idea of being a cute, single, 27 year old woman I decided it's time to be responsible about that single part. Because...well... Happy as I am being autonomous and single and doing my own thing, I don't plan on being alone every day.

In the spirit of adult responsibility I decided that it's about time I got tested for "the hiv." Sure, I've been tested a few times over the last however many years, but that shit can lay dormant, homes. And I ain't playin' around with my sexual health. As uncomfortable as it might be, it's important that all of us single folk take care of these things, for ourselves and hopefully for others. So I set off for one of New York City's free STD clinics to investigate one of the social welfare programs that is paid for by the taxpayers of New York City, including me.

Expecting a huge crowd, I arrived at 8:00, half an hour before the clinic opened. I wound up 6th in line, and after a quick triage I was assigned the very creative (but nonetheless confidential) nickname of "6." At least that way you don't feel like they're screaming your name across the waiting room. In fact you don't even have to give your name, although they do ask for it and ask you to sign some papers (am I registered now? Is this like getting your dog a rabies vaccine?).

I was sent upstairs to wait in a room full (already) of mixed characters... There were a few thug-style dudes trying to not make eye contact with anyone, a young couple that looked at everything but each other, and two men who looked like they are in their fifties. My immediate speculation on those last two was hookers, but who am I to pass judgement?

We all sat staring at a tv that played 80's instructional-video music and interchanged short videos with demonstrations of safe sex practices. And--no kidding--between each segment they played Salt-n-Pepa's "Let's Talk About Sex." It was killer! The videos were kind of awesome; with lessons about safe sex and getting tested in an upbeat, matter-of-fact style that smacked of Degrassi Junior High. The demonstrations were by far more amusing though... Imagine walking into a room full of uncomfortable people that are trying to just stare at a TV and not look embarrassed to be there, then when you take a look at what they're watching you see a giant white dildo on the screen with the following print: "Did you know a condom can hold 2 gallons of water? A standard size condom can even fit on an elephant's penis!"

The older guys looked like they were in hell.

After an hour or so, an administrative looking guy with a Caribbean accent and a fashion-forward pink shirt/vest combo announced that the clinic was short on doctors. Well duh... I've been a public servant, I know how this works. I then found out that they don't necessarily call people in order. "No sweat," I thought to myself. "I'm number 6. How long can it take?"

The clock struck 10 and then a nice lady named Kay called me back and asked me a few questions about drug use and sexual history. She then deposited me in the phlebotomist's chair, where I promptly squinted my eyes shut and stuck my arm straight out, fist in a ball. The phlebotomist was nice too, and chatted with me about my job (for the record, I fibbed oh-so-slightly on this one and said I was an out of work PA). She did a great job distracting me from the needle, looking me straight in the eye the whole time and smiling and asking questions. Then she told me it would be forty minutes to find out. Well...okay. Disappointing, but predictable.

Back in the waiting room the bucket seats were starting to fill up, and forty minutes no longer sounded so bad, especially compared to what the poor junkie-looking lady in the back corner was going to have to sit through. I feel like it's relevant to say that she was the only junkie-looking type there, and I'm not even sure that she was a junkie; she could just have been really skinny and tired.

I positioned myself on one side of the room, in a chair that faced all the other chairs, for the simple reason that the vantage point allowed me to see all the comings and goings and nervous glances of the other folks. While people watching was definitely up there on my list of things to do, I did have forty minutes to kill. I whipped out this week's Time Out New York and started perusing the Around Town section to try and find something cool to do this weekend. Something fun, slightly-touristy-but-not-totally-touristy... Or at least something other than drinks and dinner. That's fun but it gets old, especially when New York is your oyster! I checked the TV. Did you know HIV can be spread to a baby during breastfeeding? Actually, I didn't know that before, so there's no way to say the day was a total waste of time.

The truly crowning moment of the experience came when I noticed a guy across the room chatting up the girl sitting next to him. At first I thought nothing of it, but then I realized they didn't know each other and it dawned on me that Dude was trying to score digits from a girl he met at the STD clinic. Ew! That is so....backwards!

With all the entertainment, plus bonus funny texting with a friend, I really didn't mind the long wait too much...I guess you could say I made lemonade out of a smelly waiting room full of awkward situations. Finally, Kay called me back in her office and told me to have a seat. "You tested negative for HIV," she said with a smile. "Woohoo!" I replied.

Not that it's a big surprise, but it's nice to know for sure.