I received notification that I had to report to Seattle Hall for my urinalysis test. When I arrived, I was met by a UPC who proceeded to brief me and the other males present on some rather bizarre new rules. According to the UPC, some students had admitted that their barracks roommates had been using whizzinators and monkey whizz belts during the anonymous surveys. penis. As a result, the military had introduced a new rule: males had to stand on the footprints at a 45-degree angle at the urinal, with pants and underwear pulled down to the boots and shirt lifted so that the observer had a totally unobstructed view of the penis, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It all seemed like an overreaction to what was likely an isolated incident. But the UPC was dead serious, and he made it clear that failure to comply with the new rules would result in disciplinary action. As I stood at the urinal, with my pants and underwear around my ankles and my shirt lifted, I felt violated and embarrassed. But that was nothing compared to what happened next. The observer, who seemed to be an overzealous young man, was determined to ensure that every detail was recorded. He scrutinized every inch of my genitals, even going so far as to ask me to lift my scrotum so that he could inspect underneath. I felt like a lab rat being poked and prodded, and I could see the same humiliation in the eyes of the other men in the room. It was clear that the observer was taking his role very seriously, perhaps a little too seriously. His zeal for catching any potential cheaters had turned what should have been a routine procedure into a humiliating and uncomfortable experience for everyone involved. As I left the testing room, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the price we paid for serving our country. Was our dignity and privacy worth sacrificing in the name of catching a few potential cheaters? It was a sobering thought, and one that would stay with me for a long time.