Colorado Springs is a city of about half a million people. This week I found the one guy (well, I’m hoping he was the only one) who wanted to sell us his religion.
My three travel mates and I were running late, due to the delayed arrival of our transportation. Relieved when a cab pulled up, we quickly piled in, three in back and me and my fat rear end and long legs in front. As we rolled away from the hotel, our driver autolocked the doors, and our visit to Satan’s den began.
“I enjoy some Christian music while I drive, and I hope you’ll be inspired by it as well,” he said as he cranked the volume up to 11.
“Inspiration is always welcome,” I replied, feeling obligated to respond, given my close proximity.
“What have you girls been doing in town?” he inquired.
“Attending a meeting,” I cryptically answered.
“What kind of meeting?” he persisted, clearly unwilling to accept my vagueness.
“A planning meeting,” I said, continuing my effort to avoid telling him.
“What were you planning?” he asked.
I finally relented. “We all deal with domestic violence and the special needs of children who have been exposed to it.”
“God bless you. The children need angels to protect them.”
“Mnnnnn.”
“Let me tell you a story, girls. I think that you’ll appreciate this.”
*Silence*
“How many seeds inside an apple?”
*Silence*
*More silence.*
Finally, from the back seat someone says, “Twelve?”
“Let’s all agree that it’s twelve.” “How many apples are inside one apple seed?”
*Silence*
“That’s unknowable,” I offer, hoping to bring this little parable to an quick end.
“No, there’s someone who knows exactly how many apples there will be.”
Knowing I’ll irritate him by saying so, I remark: “I just don’t think that there’s anyone who could be bothered to keep track of such a thing.”
“That’s where you are wrong, my dear. There is someone who knows how many apples come from a seed and how many hairs are on a man’s back.”
After shivering from the thought of anyone keeping track of the hairs on a man’s back, I tell myself that it’s time to give the man what he wants. The Answer. “Well, if we’re talking on a spiritual plane, I suppose…”
“Exactly! God knows everything! Now you girls just think about that! Isn’t that something? It’s just incredible!”
My final word: “So Becky, do you have a busy day tomorrow?”
My name isn’t JadedJu for nothin’.
Ewwww… back hair! Ewwww…
Don’t you just love it when you get the spiritual cab drivers? I had one of those in Austin last spring, and I thought he was going to blast the holy in to us with the LOUD Christian music. Thanks, I’ll get my religion elsewhere man…
::tears of laughter::
I find that incredibly funny!
this is why I never go anywhere near Colorado Springs when I visit the otherwise very lovely state of Colorado. thankfully the holy rollers tend to stay in CO Springs and leave the mountains to the heathens.
I had a taxicab ride in Mexico, where the cabbie didn’t speak much english, but he liked to listen to crappy techno-mix music, that had lovely lyrics like “face down, ass up, that’s the way we like to f***!”
yaaaaay.