The Adventure Continues

So, after a 45 minute flight I landed at the Ilopongo International airport on the outskirts of San Salvador. I don't remember what time it was but it was DARK. Like a well-digger's shoe sole dark. Two missionaries met me at the gate and helped me collect my luggage and carry all my worldly goods to a bus stop. They had introduced themselves as the zone leaders one of whom was a short, fat, balding guy who said he was Elder Monroe. After several busses passed by we hauled ourselves and my stuff onto a bus headed for San Salvador Central. We rode forever-and-a-half then got off and got on another bus. More riding forever-and-a-half and switching to yet another bus.

Finally we got off of that bus and began to walk. And walk. And walk. Then walked some more, all the while hulking all of my junk. Eventually we turned down a rather poorly lit street that was lined with one-story buildings that were just one continuous building with doors and windows every so often with a step up to each door. Somewhere in the middle of the block they said, "Here it is" and knocked on the door. It took a bit for someone to open the door, then they took my stuff inside and invited me in.

When I walked in this is what I saw: four missionaries (I assumed they were since they were wearing white shirts and ties, this was before name tags) sitting at a table playing poker with lit cigarettes in their hands and drinking what looked like beer. A couple of others were looking at a Playboy magazine and discussing what movies they planed to see that week. They all had several days growth of beard. Elder Monroe showed me to my corner of the room where there was a blanket on the floor for me to sleep on and a bowl of chicken soup with the chicken foot sticking out of it. He said that I was quite lucky because they had saved the foot for me since it was my first day in the mission. I said thanks anyway but I had already eaten chicken at the mission home so I was not hungry.

That was all they could take and they all began to laugh and say it was all an act to welcome me into the district. They thought it was a real hoot and kept asking me if I believed what I saw. Of course I did because I didn't have anything to compare it with. For all I knew that was what missionaries did. It turned out that neither Elder Monroe or the other guy were zone leaders and Monroe had only been in the mission for two months. They had been the top baptizing district in the mission that month and had earned a trip to the Mayan ruins in Copan, Honduras. That was why they hadn't shaved for a week. Imagine how pleased I was to have supplied them with even more entertainment. It turned out that the "Playboy" was just the cover with an Era magazine inside (that was the church magazine before the Ensign).

I believe word got back to President Clark and hazing of new missionaries was forever banned. When I started working in the Mesa temple last January I ran into a guy who was there at my welcome. He is the coordinator of the Spanish session on Saturday. He apologized profusely and was quite happy that I was still active and hadn't been ruined by that experience.