I was suddenly awakened from a deep sleep when my alarm went off at the scheduled time. As I struggled to pull myself out of bed, I remembered why I got up so early. That's right, the stupid sports physical. I wanted to make sure that I had time for a quick shower and some breakfast before the exam. I figured that the sports physical wouldn't be too involved, especially since I was only playing golf. But I wanted to at least make sure I was clean.

I threw on a bath robe, grabbed my towel, shampoo and soap and walked the short distance down the hallway to the men's bath room. When I arrived, I was glad to find that the shower area was empty. It seemed that, at least for the moment, I had the place all to myself. I grabbed one of the private shower stalls that had a door and began my shower. The bath room has a few private shower stalls with doors in additional to a much larger communal shower area. I don't consider myself a prude, but I just felt better taking a shower in one of the private stalls. The large communal shower area reminded me too much of my high school P.E. class, which I'd rather try to forget. I wasn't expecting a full physical exam, but while showering I made sure that I was especially clean all over. After all, this should really be just a quick sports physical since it's only for golf!

After I finished my shower, I made my way back to my dorm room and got dressed. I've had a few physicals in the past and for some reason they always include the dreaded turn-your-head-and-cough part where they check you for a hernia. So I figured that I might have to very briefly lower my jeans for that part. Because of that, I made sure that I pulled on a brand new pair of white cotton boxers. I reasoned that with the loose fitting boxers, they might be able to just reach in and check for hernias without me having to pull them down all the way. At least, that's what I hoped they would do. I finished dressing by pulling on some clean white socks, my jeans, and a clean T-shirt.

I left the dorm, with my trusty napkin map in hand, and headed toward the campus dining hall for a quick bite of breakfast. After breakfast, I followed the map that Ashley had drawn to my destination. I arrived at the Physical Education and Recreation Center building at 8:30. There was already a crowd of guys moving toward the building, so I basically just followed the crowd.

I entered what appeared to be the main entrance to the building which led into a three-story atrium. I saw several tables in the center of the atrium where guys were registering and receiving paperwork and instructions. So I figured that this must be the starting point for the physicals and I got in line. While I was in the short line, I watched the flurry of activity that was taking place in the building. It seemed like there were students, all male, moving in every possible direction. As the men registered at the table in front of me, they receive paperwork and then walked down a hallway to the right. Other men were walking in the opposite direction down the same hallway, and heading toward the hallway to the left with their paperwork in hand.

After a few short minutes, I reached the front of the line. Only then did I notice that the table had a sign in front of it that said "Pre-participation Physical Registration - Table #1". It looks like I correctly found the right starting point by just following the crowd. The table was staffed by two female students, both of them about the same age as Beth and Ashley. Both of them were wearing a dark blue polo shirt. I assumed that they were part of the group of second year nursing students like Beth and Ashley. Perhaps this is the type of paperwork shuffling that Beth and Ashley assumed they would be doing.

"Hi, can I have your name please," said one of the young ladies at the table.

"Jim Johnson," I replied.

She immediately began to scan her list of student names, presumably looking for mine.

"Oh, here you are," she said, "You're a first year student?"

"Yes, that's right."

As I responded she reached for a packet of paperwork and removed a pre-numbered label from the cover. She then attached the label to her list next to my name. It appeared that each packet of paperwork had a unique number, and this set of paperwork was now being associated with me.

"Alright then," she continued as she handed me the paperwork. "Your first step is to complete all of these medical history forms. If you go down this hallway to your right, you'll see a table labeled #2 where you should check-in next. Across from that table is a room with tables and chairs where you can complete the forms. There are several places on the forms that require your signature, so please make sure you sign all of them. There are also several disclosures for you to read and sign. Any questions?"

"No, I think I understand, thanks" I replied. I took the packet of forms from the young lady and walked down the hallway to my right. I arrived at table #2 which was also staffed by two young female students. And as I approached the table, I could see that they were both wearing bright white shorts along with the same style of dark blue polo shirt.

"Can I see your paperwork please," one of them said as I approached the table.

"Sure, here you go," I responded, handing them the packet of forms. She read the serial number from the packet of forms and recorded it in her log.

"Alright, go ahead and complete all of these forms for us," she said. "Just find any empty desk in one of those rooms," she said as she pointed to the opposite side of the hallway. "And here are some pens if you didn't bring one."

"Thanks, I didn't think to bring one," I said as I retrieved a pen from the table.

"When you're done please bring the forms back here," she said.

I walked into the first room, found a desk and sat down. There were about six other guys in the room when I entered. All of them were in various stages of completing their paperwork. The first form just had basic information about me. Name, home address, dorm number, phone, that sort of thing. The second form was a medical history which took much more time to complete. While I was filling out the forms, a couple of the other guys in the room completed theirs and left.

The remaining forms all seemed like legal disclosures and releases. One of them was authorization for the doctors and nurses to examine me. Another one was an acknowledgement that I received their official privacy policy. The final form talked about some kind of studies they were conducting. It mentioned something about a human growth and development study and also something called HSDP. But by this time I was tired of filling out forms, so I didn't bother to read any of these forms completely. I wanted to get this physical over with so I simply signed all of these forms and got up.

I returned to table #2 with my forms in hand.

"Here you go," I said as I handed the forms to the young lady at the table. She was the same girl that I talked with earlier. She took less than a minute to look though the paperwork, checking to make sure that I completed and signed all of the forms.

While the first girl was looking through my paperwork, the other girl at the table seemed to be looking me over and smiling. She wasn't really staring at me, but she was definitely checking out my body, as if she was undressing me in her mind. She was kind of cute, and maybe she thought the same thing of me. Or maybe she looked at all of the guys that way. Or perhaps she just liked to flirt with the guys. I guess I'll never know.

Satisfied that everything was in order, the young lady made a notation in her log book. She also placed a small, circular orange sticker on the front page of my packet of forms.

"What's the orange sticker for?" I asked.

"Oh, that just means that you've agreed to everything, including all of the optional disclosures," she answered.

"Oh, I didn't realize that some of the forms were optional," I replied.

"Well, that's not really a problem," she answered as she handed me the packet of forms. "The next step is to head back down this hallway, past the table where you signed in and down the other hallway. Down there at the entrance to the gym you'll find table #3. Just check in with them and they'll tell you where to go next."

"OK, thanks," I said to the two girls.

As I walked away I heard the girl who was looking at me say something. "You have fun now," she said to me. I didn't turn around to respond to her, but I wondered what she meant. What fun could I possibly have during a sports physical?

I walked back down the long hallway, past the initial reception desk where I signed in and down the opposite hallway. I still hadn't seen any sign of Beth or Ashley, so perhaps they were working at table #3. I finally reached the table, which was staffed by two more young females -- not by Beth or Ashley. They were both wearing the now-familiar official outfit consisting of a dark blue polo shirt and white shorts. This table was just outside the gym, located right next to the gym doors, which were all closed. Next to the table was a door labeled "Men's Locker Room". As I watched, several other guys in front of me had their paperwork reviewed by the ladies at the table, and then they went through the door into the locker room. So it looked like the physicals were taking place in there. It was now my turn at the head of the relatively short line of males at the table.

"Hi, can I have your paperwork please," said the young lady at the table. "I also need to see your picture ID."

I handed her my packet of forms and my official student photo ID. She looked up at me, comparing me to the picture on my ID. She then compared the information on my ID to the first form that I had completed.

"Here you go," she said as she handed back my ID, "you wouldn't believe how many guys try to have someone else take their physical for them."

"Really? I didn't know that it was that big of a deal."

"Oh yes," she said, "each year they catch a few guys trying to cheat. That's why we now check each student's ID and match up their forms using our numbering system."

As she was speaking she fastened a wrist band snugly around my left wrist. The band was similar to what you might see in a hospital or emergency room. She then used a hand-held scanner to scan the barcode on the wrist band before entering some additional information using her laptop computer. Finally, she then placed a pre-numbered barcode sticker on a manila folder and scanned it.

"There you go, that will make sure that we don't get you or your records confused with anyone else," she said.

"Wow, you really are serious about this identify stuff. Why would anyone try to cheat for this?"

"Well," she replied, "I don't know for sure, but I think it might be for a couple of reasons. I think some guys are just afraid they won't pass for whatever reason. And then some guys are just embarrassed by the whole thing and don't want to go through the ordeal."

I didn't answer her, but thought to myself that those were pretty lame excuses. If you're afraid you won't pass, then why even sign up for some sport? And why worry about the embarrassment? After all, it's just a simple sports exam. It can't possibly be that bad.

"Here's a lock and key for you to use in the locker room," she said, handing me the lock. "You can just wear the key around your neck during the exam." I tried the key to make sure it fit the lock and then shoved them into the front pocket of my jeans.

While I was talking with the first girl, the other girl at the desk was placing my forms into the numbered manila folder. She placed letters on the tab of the folder that matched the first letter of my first name and the first four letters of my last, just like they do in a real doctor's office.

"He's orange," the second girl said to the first girl as she was looking at my paperwork.

"Oh, right, he is," she said. Upon hearing this news, she produced two hand-operated counters, like the kind you might see in a movie theatre or amusement park to count people. She clicked the first one and then showed the number to the second girl. Both girls now looked at each other and began to grin and look up at me. The second girl now placed a bright green rectangular label prominently on the front of my folder. Both girls now initialed the label. She clicked the second counter and likewise showed it to the second girl.

"So, what's the green label all about," I asked.

"That just means you were randomly selected to participate in the growth and development study today," said the first girl. “But you were not selected for the HSDP study.”

"But I didn't want to sign up for anything like that," I responded.

"But you are marked as orange," said the second girl. "Orange is supposed to mean that you volunteered to participate." Both girls now shuffled through my paperwork and found the disclosure and release document for the two studies.

"See, you signed it right here," she said as she showed me the form I had signed. "By signing here you agreed that if you were randomly chosen, you would voluntarily participate in the study."

"But, I really don't want to do any kind of study," I protested, "I guess I didn't realize what I was signing. Nobody told me that some of the forms were optional!"

"I'm sorry," she said, "but the rules are that once you're randomly chosen, you have to participate. This is a study that they've been doing for a few years now, and we can't just let you change your mind. That might change the randomness of the study and the final results."

I just looked at the two girls in shock. I thought I was here for a simple sports exam, and now I was being forced into some kind of study.

"So what's involved in this study, anyway?" I asked.

"Well, we don't have first-hand knowledge of what's involved since it's only for male students," said the second girl, "but we've been told that it's just a few additional tests and measurements immediately following your physical." Both of the girls were now looking at me and smiling, as if they were the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary. I sensed that they knew more about the study than they were telling me, but I obviously wasn't going to get the full story from them.

"Well, alright, I guess I don't really have a choice," I replied.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Jim," the first girl said. That was the first time today that anyone called me by my name. She now smiled as she handed me the manila folder of paperwork, complete with the bright green label on the cover.

"Just take this with you into the locker room to begin your exam," she said. "The door is right over there."