I was on my way to Trinoma, and it really wasn't in my schedule to ride a cab with a frustrated preacher. The moment I sat my cute, bubble butt on the seat, he asked: "Do you have a Bible at home?" I should have remembered my lessons well: Never go with an Evangelist to a second location. Yet, the adventurous side of me--that part of the human brain we have inherited from our crocodile ancestors-- compelled me to go along for the ride, and see where it would lead. I felt it would make a good character study--a lonely, disgraced preacher who has turned to driving cabs for a living, and kills passengers for fun. "Why, yes. We do. I keep one close to my bed, actually," I lied.Back to men growing their hair long. It was the most ridiculous thing he said so far that night. He went on against tattoos, people who don't pray, and women who dress up in men's clothing. I felt trapped. If I wasn't so worried about my shirt, I would have kicked the door open, and rolled out of the running taxi. He was practically against everything: Muslims, gay men, having impure thoughts. But I had to draw the line somewhere, and it was with men growing their hair long.
"Jesus had long hair," I told him.
"What? Of course not," he said, adamant.
"Yes, he did. Look at all the crucifixes. Beside, there was no barbers yet at that time," I informed him confidently.
He was silent. Deep in his evangelical thoughts. Finally, we reached my destination. I reached for money from my bag, and handed him the fare, adding a little extra because I appreciate passion in people, even when it's misplaced and misguided.
"Jesus had short hair," he couldn't resist saying right before I stepped out of his cab. "I saw a movie once where he had short hair."
No comments:
Post a Comment