My Life as a Novel

Anyone who knows me well knows that I love very little more than I love having my feet rubbed. So imagine my surprise when, upon my most recent visit to Seacoast, I experienced just that.

It wasn't as nice as I make it sound. It was actually quite ... strange.

I attended a service last night with a friend of mine. It is intended, I believe, for young, single adults - but fortunately they weren't checking rings at the door. While enjoying our pizza, my friend and I took a seat on a small futon/couch contraption in the back of the room that became our seating for the evening.

Relevant Tattoo Update: Though it doesn't really hurt that much anymore, it still swells at the end of the day, from just hanging there. But if I can keep it propped up for about 20 minutes, the swelling significantly reduces and I can have a normal foot again.

So when I was sitting on this futon/couch, Forward Thinking Friend found a chair for me to prop my foot on. As the service started, the room filled up pretty quickly. Shortly after the music began, a young guy came in and stood in the back, near where my foot was propped. When people would sit, he would just sorta squat. I offered him my foot-prop chair and he gladly accepted it.

He scooted the chair rightupnextto the end of the futon/couch. I thought it was a little odd, but ... maybe he couldn't see from where the chair originally was. No biggie. Then I noticed that every time the Pastor would pray, this guy - from his chair - would leeeean over my foot - appearing very uncomfortable. I thought, "It looks like he's really investigating my foot ... but the lights are out!" He could probably see the impression of a tattoo on my foot, but there's no way he could see the details it appeared he was looking so closely for. So I just thought, "Well that's how this guy prays. Whatever."

When the music started back up at the end of the service, this guy walked out the back and I thought for a second, "Would it be ok for me to prop my foot again?" But he reappeared pretty quickly, answering that question for me. But then he just sorta walked around in the back - but always came back to the chair.

Finally the lights came back on at the end of the service while the "File Out" music was playing. I was speaking with a couple of my friends and was suddenly distracted by the presence of a kneeling male at my feet.

He spoke very quietly, but I think I made out the words, "I like your tattoo" before he started rubbing my foot. Wha? Fortunately it wasn't hurting anymore but ... could you get any more awkward?!

I joked that Seacoast just likes to make sure it's meeting needs above and beyond expectations, as I was recounting the story for Kyle. He welcomed me - officially - into the Tattoo Club. Apparently admission is only official after you've had the first of many people who feel it's completely ok to touch your tattoo or move shirt sleeves or pants legs out of the way without your permission so they can see your tattoos.

Labels: Church Hunt, Good for a laugh