Everyone makes mistakes. Some of us more than others. I fall into that category.
It's not that I do it on purpose. The mistakes just seem to happen. And, I admit, I've had more than my fair share. Is it because my brain disconnects? Something more sinister?
I hope that this does not offend anyone. I don't mean for it to. This really did happen and it really was just a mistake. And I felt really bad when I found out I had made the mistake. . . though, it IS funny.
Anyway, this happened years and years ago. I and my girlfriend, who is Catholic, were invited to go to a Christmas Eve midnight mass by my best friend. Since I had never been to one, I thought it would be neat to see one. Kathi went, too. As we walked through the parking lot, my friend and I were smoking. He finished before I did, and flicked the butt out in front of us then stepped on it to put it out.
I, on the other hand, was still smoking as we went through the parking lot. As we approached the doors, I was almost finished with my cigarette. As we came up the steps, I saw what I thought were ashtrays mounted to the walls by the doors. I put my cigarette out in one, and it made a hiss. I asked, "Who put water in the ash trays?!!!"
From the reaction I got, you would have thought that I had shot the pope or something! I was told that they are NOT ashtrays, they are holy water. Well, Kathi (who is not Catholic) laughed. She was the only one. . .
Geez, how was I suppose to know!?
Well, after getting reamed out by my best friend and my date, things kinda went downhill from there. My friend and my date would not let me and Kathi set next to each other, 'cause Kathi kept on giggling.
During the service, an alter boy accidentally set one of the poinsettia's on fire with the thingy he was supposed to light candles with. Then the incense stuff they burned made me have a sneezing fit. And it smelled like old rags to me. And what was up with this stand-up-set-down-stand-up-kneel-down-set-down-stand-up thing. It could be an Olympic event! Going to Catholic church can be a real work out.
When I was a kid, when we went to church, people talked to one another, until it was time to start the service. In the Catholic church, it is really quiet. This was a learning experience for me. And the church was really beautiful. I did enjoy the service. But, I still caught all kinds of grief after the service.
I was never invited to go to another service.
Then again, maybe it had something to do with my rubbing ash off of my girlfriend's forehead one time. She hollered something about Ash Wednesday or something like that, as she stormed out of the Denny's restaurant.