It was a Wednesday night/Thursday morning around 6 AM. As one could imagine taking place at my apartment, two girls, one of them thoroughly skiied (coked out) and the other just very fond of the first, decided to run outside to a grassy park/lawn type area in front of the apartment building. Naked. My fllatmate and I sat on the balcony and watched this scene transpire.
They were running around, frolicking, giggling, hugging, all good cheerful fun. However, there were two missionairies who were walking on a path headed their way, in neat suits and carryinig bibles, ready to prostletyze. My flaltmate and I watched in eager anticipation of this clash of cultures.
Indeed the two women were not aware of the two men, who were awkwardly shuffling forward and looking at each other as if to verify it is safe to continue. Eventually the girls noticed them, the two men gawked at them, appearing baffled. Clearly there was no protocol in God’s guidebook for this situation. I could feel their sense of troubled questioning “should we try to convert them or are they too far gone?” or maybe it was just “why do I feel these strange sin urges in my pants and what do I do about them?”
The girls quickly let out an embarassed yelp and ran back across the lawn to my apartment. The two missionairies looked at each other and paused for a minute, perhaps wondering if they were supposed to recite some prayer appropriate for this moment, and then continued their way.