The heavy laden ship lurched to a halt on the tarmac and the engines whirred down into silence. Passengers scurried across the wet pavement, their breaths misting the cold night air. Rainy in Portland in November? That's no great surprise. I was, however, caught off guard by finding myself with a free Saturday night. It'd been a long time. What to do? The possibilities stretched out before me. I shivered with anticipation as I unplugged my headset. And then I saw her.
She looks like trouble, I thought. The brunettes usually are. She was wearing a trench coat and an aloof look. I caught sight of a clipboard. This dame means business, I realized. Could she be looking for me? She soon answered my question by poking her head into the cockpit. "Are you Sam?" she asked breathlessly. I hesitated. Should I reveal my identity to the Mystery Woman? In all honesty, I couldn't lie. Not to a brunette with a clipboard, anyways. "Come with me," she commanded as she turned to go with a flip of her hair. I dutifully followed behind.
Who is this woman? And where is she taking me? The questions swirled through my head. My Saturday night had taken a turn towards the unexpected. What did this mysterious beauty have in mind? Could it be a trap? I needed answers.
I caught up to her and grasped her arm. "Hey Miss! Listen, what's the idea here? You ain't said boo since we left the plane. What's goin' on, anyways?"
She turned to me with an expression that bordered between amusement and contempt, and then her features softened and she spoke softly: "You mean you really haven't any idea? Didn't anyone tell you? We have a very special appointment tonight." She saw that I still wasn't following her drift, so she leaned towards me and whispered: "You're going to pee in a cup for me."
Suddenly it all made sense. This was no chance meeting; this was destiny! We were meant to come together! It was written in the stars and in 14 CFR §121.457! My doubts evaporated into thin air as I felt a familiar tingle of excitment. It'd been a long time since anybody had asked me to pee in their cup. And suddenly, out of the blue, this wonderful, mysterious woman came into my life....
She ushered me into her office and beckoned for me to sit down. I settled into a plush office chair opposite her and gazed into her dark eyes. She smiled and started speaking softly but evenly.
"We'll need a urine sample of at least 45 ml. It will be split into two specimens, one for the lab to analyze and the second to be retained in case of a positive. This form identifies you by employee number only. Put your contact information in Section Five in case the Medical Review Officer needs to contact you. One copy of this form goes with the specimen, one copy is for the Medical Review Officer, one is for my records, one is for the company, and you retain the last copy."
I was spellbound by her melodious voice as she explained chain of custody to me. Sure, I'd heard it all before from all sorts of dames, but never like this! She spoke like she really believed it. If I had to pinpoint the moment I really fell hard, it'd be when she demonstrated the specimen sealing procedure.
She offered me a drink. I asked for my usual snifter of bourbon, but she suggested that wasn't appropriate given the circumstances. The dame had a point. I drank Talking Rain spring water instead.
The rest of the evening is a blur. I remember her taping off the water sources in the washroom, which offends me a little. Did she trust me so little as to think I'd dillute my urine? I could never do that to her! I remember her turning the toilet bowl a beautiful cobalt blue. I remember missing her dearly when she left the washroom for me to do the deed. And I will always cherish the moment afterwards when she split the specimen and swiftly sealed both vials.
All too soon, our time together was over. I spent the rest of my Saturday night at home savoring the memories over a glass of Wild Turkey. She promised me that she'd see me again. Was she simply masking her perfidy? Lots of women have promised lots of things to me over the years. I'd like to believe she really meant it, and our meeting wasn't just a meaningless encounter. Time will tell. In the meantime, I'll end every trip with the anticipation of spying a woman on the ramp with a clipboard and a test cup.