The concrete floor was cold on my bare feet, and I could feel a draft on my bare legs.
There were nine of us standing, eyes straight ahead, hands folded over our genitals. I don’t know how long we stood there, it seemed like hours. There was to be no talking. I stared at the wall before me, it’s gray paint cracked and peeling.

I began to see images in the disfigured wall. There was a baby’s face, mouth puckered to receive a breast. There, the rear end of a horse, or possibly a human. There, the V of a vagina. No, no, I thought as I felt a stirring in my penis. This was not the time or place to get an erection. Down boy, down.

The steel door at the end of the room swung open and two men entered, one in a white coat and the other in uniform. “OK, men,” the one in uniform said. “This is the end of it, so to speak.” he joked. “Bend over and spread ’em.”

As one, we leaned forward so the doctor could check our prostates. Welcome to boot camp, I thought.