Tales from Tucson ...

As I was riding the bus in Tucson with my girlfriend last weekend, a group of men got on. One had a Bible with him, and their conversation soon turned to it.

"I never go anywhere without my sword!" the man carrying the Bible remarked several times.

"You've gotta read Genesis 1-19," the other replied. "Page three."

"Page three?" the first man asked, somewhat puzzled. Even he knew that Bibles weren't all paginated the same. He turned to the relevant verses and read one. It bore no relevance to anyone, and his tone quickly turned to one of confusion.

At this point the fan of Genesis (the book, not Phil Collins' old band) started doing chin-ups with the use of the overhead bar on the bus.

Why do the crazies gravitate toward the good book? You never see a drugged up homeless man reading from a book on quantum mechanics and arguing about the nature of space-time. It must be the theatrics that attract them to it.

In any event, neither my girlfriend or I made eye contact with the men, scared that we might be drawn into the conversation. And then I'd have to reveal my heretical nature by arguing that Jesus didn't have a beard.