Let me tell you a little tale.
So today, we were told (today), we needed to go get some sort of medical test for the camp we’re going to in a week from yesterday (next Monday). Even our resident director wasn’t exactly sure why the camp needed more medical information or what exactly we would be tested for today.
But that’s all irrelevant. So we left class after about an hour and fifteen minutes and walked to the medical clinic. And walked. And walked. And then walked some more. It took a solid half hour to walk to the medical clinic, in a part of Kazan none of us had been to (including our resident director). We walked into the clinic (very clean, modern – no worries, parents) and were told to put on blue plastic shoe covers. Whatever. Normal. Health. Swine flu. It’s all good. Sanitation is good.
We walked down to the end of the hall and waited for a few minutes. We were told there’d be some sort of diagnostic test, no needles (woohoo). The girls were told that they’d be going first.
First girl goes in. Waiting. Waiting. Girl walks out, flush, looking like she just saw a ghost. She goes over to some other girls, starts whispering, there’s some laughter, as another two girls file into the room. After the second batch gets out of the room, there’s full on chatter going on, mixed in with cries of “what the %#@& was that!” and “Oh my god!”
Finally, my curiosity got to me. What was happening in this room? After getting denied by a few girls, one finally told me what was going on.
“They make you pull your pants and then they put a piece of tape on your butt,” were her (pretty much) exact words. What? Toto, we ain’t in Kansas anymore.
A little weirded out, but not really worried, I volunteered to be the brave first man in.
I was ushered into a white room with a chair in the middle. There was a cart full of somewhat menacing medical equipment right next to me. The overwhelming smell of rubbing alcohol and ammonia filled the room. An old-ish Russian woman stood there, wearing white medical gloves and holding a piece of standard, buyable-at-Office-Max Scotch tape. Her obnoxiously red hair was the only color to be found in the room.
She closed the door behind me and turned to me. She gave the universal signal of “drop your pants” and said something in Russian that I’d have to guess was “lose the shorts, buddy.” I obliged, still looking at her (awkwardly of course, because my shorts and boxers were pulled down enough for my butt to be exposed).
Her next set of instructions were also universal, but probably the weirdest directions I’ve ever been given. Her hand motion could only imply a few things:
1) “Swim like this”
2) “Open the window”
3) “This dance is very popular in the clubs here in Kazan”
4) “Spread your cheeks”
Of course, it was number 4. Almost robotically, I did as I was told. She walked around to my rear and literally put a piece of tape on a place I’d rather not mention, but let’s just say it wasn’t the cheek.
“Бсё,” she said. “That’s all.” Say no more. I pulled up the drawers and pretty much sprinted out of that room.
Definitely an interesting experience. But I think its more of a one-and-done type of deal – definitely not something I hope to do again.
So that’s my story for the day. Hope y’all aren’t too weirded out, that was pretty heavy stuff (and I didn’t really censor…anything).