Oh, Ye of Little Faith

Apparently I’ve been out of The States for too long, because today I was duped by the oldest trick in the book. I’m walking down the street this evening on my way to my favorite coffee shop for free wireless internet, when I spot a hot Westerner. I slowed my pace, as I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things. Like a mirage in the desert, I am unsure if what I am seeing is for real. As I continue to walk my usual path to the coffee shop, I noticed two more, and then another. Four hot Westerners in the same city block, in the middle of Lampang? My friends, when you are lost in the Sahara Desert and it begins to rain, you don’t question where the water came from, you just drink. The four lads are dressed in the traditional Western-style professional gear, white dress shirts, neck tie, and khaki pants. All looked like they could have been pulled fresh from the pages of American Eagle, or Abercrombie & Fitch. Chances are it was probably closer to Eddie Bauer, but when you’ve spent so long wondering in the desert, you aren’t seeing the palm trees in the middle of the newly found Oasis.

As I approach, we do the westerner recognition, which is similar to when two dogs meet and they dance around each other; preparing to either sniff each others’ butts, or aggressively attack. Not sure what my stance was at this point, I cautiously approach. They smile and I’m sure this is a sign that sniffing my butt is surely their tactic of choice. I smile in return, but still hesitant to let them near. The one begins by saying hello and then asking where I’m headed. I slow my pace, but not fully stopped. I reluctantly tell them my future destination is the coffee shop up the road. They bait me in with the ever familiar, “Can we ask you a question?” Thinking they are new to town, or in need of assistance, I am ready to provide my limited knowledge of directions, or local hang-outs that are popular with other Ferang. After all, it was not too long ago that I was in their same position as a wide-eyed wonderer in this strange and foreign land. Their next question, “Have you found Jesus Christ in your life?” With this, the young man pulls out the Book of Mormon. I have a quick Latter Days moment run through my head, but quickly dismiss it. At this point, I realize the mirage was exactly that, a clever trick to dupe the only English-speaking native for miles with their religious doctrine and conservative views. With each word and action, these men became less and less attractive; more like models for Wal-Mart brand tube socks. While I consider myself a man of faith, I know that my faith does not align with that of Joseph Smith, Jr. or the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints. I respect every religion and for some reason I have had nothing but negative interactions with this religion. I smile, laugh out loud, and politely decline his request to sniff my butt. They continue with their religious propaganda, as I continue on my way to the coffee shop.

Hindsight is always 20/20, and looking back on the situation I should have realized what this was at first sight. The shirts and ties after 17:00PM, the bicycles, and the backpacks – they screamed Mormon Missionary. Yet, I let my other brain do the thinking and was almost duped into a religious debate surround Jesus Christ, the Book of Mormon, homosexuality, and the sanctity that is Mormonism. I guess when Lady Karma is in the mood for a joke, she hits below the Mormon Bible Belt.