It was just your typical evening out with A and a couple of his friends. We missed them, and got to the restaurant too early, so hung around outside talking about StarCraft. We had rambling conversations over dinner including email wars and pessimism/optimism. They went on to a play, I went off to catch a bus home because I have work to do.

That's when the fun began. (This could be long, go to the toilet now if you think you're going to need to.)

It rained today (hailed too, but I'll talk about that a little later) so sitting on the open seats was out of the question. The undercover seats are wooden benches (comfortable, though) divided into three sections by metal railings, each section large enough to fit two, allowing for personal space, or three disallowing. I sat in the middle section. As if awaiting my cue, two other people suddenly appeared, sitting in the sections to my right and left. To my right was a well-dressed young man, probably a high school student, since his well-dressed-ness had the appearance more of a uniform that corporate attire. To my left was a woman a bit older than me with two bags of shopping, and a paperback book.

We sat, each thinking our own thoughts. She rolled a cigarette and smoked it very considerately, blowing smoke away from us. We sat, and thought.

Then he showed up. He was wearing a double-breated but tatty overcoat. He shuffled his feet. I know, because I was looking at them, because you don't make eye-contact with strangers. He said, very quietly, "Hello."

I should have ignored him. I really should have. Not that I think it would have helped much. But I didn't. I looked up, and replied in kind. "Hello."
"I'm Michael. What's your name?"
"Diana."
"Do you know Jesus loves you?"
Shit. One of them. Heartfelt and mental sigh.
"Yes. Yes, I do." Well, I do. Everyone keeps telling me that. My mother most of all.
"Do you go to church?"
"No." Not if I can help it.
"Oh. Do you go to university."
"Yes."
"What do you study?"
"Politics."
"What do you learn in politics?"
"Lots of things."
"Are you going to be a politician?"
"Probably not."
"Then why do you learn it?"
"Because it's interesting."
"Do you pray and read the Bible?" Talk about a non sequitur.
"No, I don't."
"Do you read the Book of John?"
"I have read it." Consider and discard idea of telling him the theories about it being written about Mary Magdalene.
At this point he mumbled something about praying to God to forgive my sins. Time to come completely clean. Stuff not being confrontationist.
"Look, I'm afraid I'm not a Christian."
"That's why I'm telling you this, so you can become one."
"But I don't want to become one."
"That's like saying you don't want God to love you."
"I have my own relationship with God that is not like those that Christians have."
"But Jesus is the only path to God."
"That's what you believe, it's not what I believe."
"It's what God believes."
"How do you know that?" Honestly, the arrogance of those who assume to know the will of the Divine.
"Because he said so."
"Where?"
"In the Bible."
"Which he wrote himself."
"Yes, he did. The authors were inspired with the Holy Spirit."
At this point, thankfully, my neighbour to the right butted in. He tugged on Mr Jesus' arm and said: "Excuse me, have you read the book of Mormon?"
"The Book of Mormon is false."
"But have you ever read it."
"I don't want to talk about the Book of Mormon."
"Well, fine, I wouldn't want to push my beliefs on you, assuming they are my beliefs."
I'm stifling my laughter at this point, and thankfully the bus arrives. I stand up, and Mr Jesus makes his closing arguments: "Just remember that God loves you."
"I know God loves me, and I love God, but I don't believe in Jesus."
"But Jesus is God."
Conversation going nowhere. I board the bus. I settle myself in my seat and notice that Mr Jesus has returned to accost Mr Maybe-Mormon. At this point, however, Ms Cigarette butts in, with raised voice and many hand gestures. The argument is still raging fast and furious when the bus pulls away, and as it does, Mr Maybe-Mormon looks up and grins at me. I return his grin, and the bus moves on.