All I wanted to do on my first international flight was to sit back with my inflatable neck rest, make a nice cocktail of sleeping pills and $6 wine and read Cosmo ("Bad Girl Sex" edition) until we landed in Frankfurt. Cody made sure this would not be the case.
He sat right down next to me, a decent looking Texan boy of 24, and asked "How long have you been a Christian?" Dangit. He must have seen my tattoo. I proceeded to explain the raised Catholic, explored non-denominational thing, and then he launched into a diatribe of evangelical missionary Christian-ese, which, in order to avoid a painful 13 hour flight, I politely nodded at. I explained my current position, coming from a social work perspective and seeing communities where "accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior" might not necessarily cure gang warfare. This is when he proceeded to tell me that I wouldn't go to Heaven.
"Do you want me to explain why?"
"Not really." And I opened my computer and started to work on some photo editing. At which point he got up and handed out the following brochures to the entire plane:
Now, my opinions on the Christian missionary thing are not the most positive at this point - but I can respect a person doing what he believes in. But hand me a brochure that begins "The world will not soon forget the images of George W. Bush standing atop the wreckage of the Twin Towers ... what a wonderful blessing, this freedom we enjoy, bought with the price of someone's BLOOD."
Oh helllllllll no.
I'm not down with that red, white and blue bullshit - linked up with Christianity?! No. Not down.
Ugh. Cody spent the rest of the flight fasting - and making a clear point of why he was doing so to each stewardess who offered him food/drink - as well as glaring at any sex scene on the movies I watched. I prayed for him - that he would carry on the true message of Jesus, and not some convuluted evangelical propoganda. I'm sure he prayed for my soul too - but in an entirely different way.