Africa's not for Sissies

Chapter 4: Jesus and the See-Saw Seat

"I'll have an aisle seat please," I said to the check-in agent, trying to sound perky and confident, when I was really terrified to be boarding an aircraft and flying to Africa alone.

She took my passport with barely a glance in my direction. "Sorry, only middles left."

"Oh," I said and probably pouted a little.

She looked up at me through thick-rimmed glassed. She was chewing gum. "Shoulda got here earlier, honey."

Never mind, I thought to myself, I'll probably be seated between a slender brunette and a busty blonde on their way to a Nymphomaniacs Anonymous meeting, which I fantasized was being held in Johannesburg that week.

Thirty-three...thirty-four...thirty-five... I silently counted off the rows as I wobbled down the aisle...thirty-six – B... that's me. I looked down to see an elderly woman in a felt suit sitting in the aisle seat, her belly fat overflowing both armrests, and a young guy with a shiny face in the window seat. He had an unfortunate case of acne, and even from this distance I could see that some of his spots oozed a little. He was shaped like an egg and I couldn't see my armrest on his side either. It looked like I was going to spend the flight in the neck of an hourglass.

"Um, I think this is my seat." I said to the elderly lady, who was doing her best to ignore me as I stood there looking at her.

She looked askance at me and with a sigh began gathering her things from my seat, on which she had already placed her purse, which was larger than my carry-on daypack, and a number of other old-person items I couldn't identify if I tried.

It took her about ten minutes to stand, which was accompanied by a lot of grunting and derisive looks in my direction. There wasn't anything grandmotherly about this lady and I realized I was going to have to time my washrooms breaks to coincide with hers. I hoped she had a small bladder like me.

The young guy was constantly sniffling and wiping his reddened nose, and when I squeezed into my seat I noticed a sharp tang of iodine.

"Have you found Jesus?" he asked.

I stared at him, wondering what I should say. I was tempted to look around, maybe check under the seat and say, "no, I haven't seen him anywhere" but decided against it. "No, I don't believe in gods," I said.

He reacted as if I'd slapped him in the face. "Are you... an atheist?"

This is why I don't call myself an atheist. The problem with the word 'atheist' is that you're never certain what it means to the other person.

"Do you eat babies?" he asked.

He didn't actually say that, but from the way he was looking at me, I'm sure that's what he was thinking.

"What made you turn away from God?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Lack of evidence."

"There's puh-lenty of evidence." He crossed his arms. "You just have to have an open mind."

I've heard this so many times. In university I had a crush on a girl who said this to me all the time. She was a born-again Christian. I considered becoming one, mainly because I wanted to date her and she wouldn't date anyone who wasn't, but I just couldn't get my head around the things she believed.

"You just have to have an open mind," she told me constantly, but I don't think she knew what it meant to have an open mind. While I approached our discussions with an honest willingness to have my mind changed, which is my definition of an open mind, it became clear to me that she was not willing to change hers. It felt like the only way to "open" my mind was to close my mind to everything but her way of thinking. I honestly tried, and not just because I kept imaging how terrific she would look naked. She seemed so sure of her beliefs I began to believe she really did know something that I did not, but eventually I realized that when she was telling me to have an open mind, what she was really saying was: "be gullible and believe whatever ridiculous things I tell you." Soon, every conversation made me feel like I was being repeatedly tapped on the head with a teaspoon, so I started spending less time with her. As beautiful as she was, I just couldn't make myself believe.