Dick and Jane

When they rang the door bell it was 4:30 in the afternoon, and I was in my boxers. Still in a sweat from riding home from work, I ran to my bedroom, hiked on my board shorts, and staggered to the door. I was halfway finished putting on my t-shirt as I opend the door.
I think we both took a step back. I was just as suprised to see them as they were to see me and my hairy stomach.
Well, maybe not.
Their ankle length black skirts and pink ruffled blouses were a dead give away. You know, I fly 8000 miles from home, and they still wear the same shit. I haven't read it recently. OK, never. But maybe they left out the importance of stylish clothing in the Bible.
They both looked at each other and snickered, unsure of what to do next. They nodded a few times looking for me to make the first move and speak Japanese. After I spoke, they exhaled. They asked me if Japanese was OK.
Before I knew it I was at a fork in the road. If I turned one way, I'd be lounging on my couch watching a surf DVD within minutes. Then I looked down the other road. It was black and ominous, leading to a land where unwanted guests stay for hours and drink all of your tea.
Yeah, I can speak Japanese. Ordering food, everyday situations in the workplace, and sometimes even a political conversation. But the vocabulary to have a Dogmatic debate? I know phrases like, "Yeah, but...," "What if...," and "That's complete and total bullshit." But If these two were coming in my house, I wanted an arsenal of Biblical and religious vocab.
"Sorry. I dont really speak Japanese." It was a clutch decision.
"Hai," they nodded to one and other, and the one standing closest to the door took a step back. It looked like they were retreating. Even the Good Lord couldn't penetrate this awkwardness. I began to close the door and feel the cool breeze of the rotating fan hit my back again.
"English?" said the woman in the bonnet standing in the back.
I'm not a religious man. In the past decade, I can count on one hand how many times I've been to church, and they've been for weddings or funerals. All of which had an open bar reception afterwards. But slamming the door in someones face, whether you want to hear what they have to say or not is wrong in my book.
"Uh, Yeah." I wanted to make it clear that I did not speak Japanese. The bonnet lady rifled through her black leather handbag, only to pull out the English translation for their good word. She bowed handed it over to me.
Again, 8000 miles away, and there's still the white suburban family on the cover, lying in the grass at the park. Two middle-aged parents. One Boy. One Girl. Both blond. They were playing with their new Beagle puppy.
She cracked the pamphlet to their mission statement. My mind was made up that a prolonged conversation was inherently doomed. So there was no way this pamphlet with Dick and Jane on the cover was going to make me quit drinking.
I skimmed the text and allow me to paraphrase, but it said something like, 'How good is your life? And do you know how much better it would be if...'
I had enough. I wasn't interested, and looking at their brochure was more for their benefit than mine. As nicely as I could, I bowed and said, "Sorry, maybe next time." They understood. They continued to smile and moved along. I heard the doorbell ring nextdoor.
Maybe if I cleared away the clutter of beer cans and sat them around my table so they could tell me what they believe in, maybe my life would actually get better. Maybe I closed the door to the single greatest spiritual oppourtunity of my life. But the contrasts of of the situation were just too strange. Not just culturally as in the "Japanese Christian," but the whole encounter visually. Two women dressed in the most conservative, western style clothes stood at my door and preached the Bible, as the biggest Buddhist temple in the city sprawled out just a matter of feet behind them. Not at all to say that Buddhism is greater than Christianity. But, the whole situation at its core, was a bit of a mind fuck. It was like someone trying to sell ice cream during the dead of winter in Alaska. It just didn't work. But like I said, at a different time, a different landscape, a different lifetime perhaps, who knows, maybe next time.