We went to the Loop for a tattoo, but came back with religion. A couple of Saturdays ago, Dave, Ali, Justin, Lisa and I went to the Loop. Ali wanted a tattoo, and we were all along to watch as he wriggled and squirmed under a painful needle. But when it turned out that the tattoo would cost an arm, a leg, and his back, Ali didn’t have any place left to get the tattoo. So we walked around the Loop, had some dinner, went into some stores--you know, the usual Loop-y stuff. The Church of Scientology, on Delmar, intimidated and enticed a group of Loop-goers. Photo by Joe Herman/Student Life Just as we were about to cross the street, a tall man dressed in slacks, a button-down white shirt, and tie approached us. "Do you want a free IQ and personality test?" he asked. He held out little pink slips of paper, wiggling them around in the dim light. I reached over cautiously and took some. They read: "Free Ticket, Scientology Testing Center, Your personality determines your happiness. Know why? Free Personality and IQ testing." "You can go right now, it’s just up the street," the man told us, a hint of hope in his voice. I turned to Lisa with one of those "what do you think?" looks that only roommates can understand. She responded with a shrug of her shoulders. "All you do is walk straight up that way," he said pointing, "You walk through these big lion statues, and it’s on your right." It was only 9:00. The frats didn’t start kickin’ until about 11. What else did we have to do? So we walked up the street, wondering about what we were about to get ourselves into. We came upon the massive gates guarded by statue lions. The lions were poised, ready to jump on us and bite our heads off at any suspicious movement. But we narrowly escaped them and ran towards the Church of Scientology for salvation. The church is massive, imposing, impressive, formidable. If you look up, it seems like it will topple over and crush you. It looks like a medieval castle, something straight out of a made-for-Nickelodeon movie. I felt like we were walking into a haunted house of sorts, complete with scary noises, eerie shadows, and spooky voices. We walked into the church, down some red carpeted stairs, and then we met the receptionist. She gave us all blue cards to fill out, registering us as official visitors. We gave them our names, addresses, and phone numbers: now we were in. Another man in slacks, a white shirt and a tie guided us into "the testing room." We were seated at tables in the bright, crowded room. He handed us booklets, answer sheets, and pens and pencils. "Read the instructions on the first page, and then start whenever you’re ready, kids," he instructed. The questions were silly. "Do your muscles ever twitch when there is no logical explanation. Do you have many close friends? Would people call you affectionate? Do you rarely find yourself in situations that you regret as opposed to situations you are happy to have participated in?" Poor grammar, bad wording, confusing, and repetitive. It took us over 20 minutes to fill out the 200 questions with answers of yes, no, or maybe. After we finished, we handed in our tests to one of the nicely-dressed men. He said that it would only take a few minutes to get the results. He showed us into a room with chairs and a big-screen TV, where a movie was playing. The cute couple on the screen were searching for the meaning of life. They were very worried about it. They ran around a park, a construction site, a laboratory and a museum looking for people to tell them what life was all about. But no one could. Then they collapsed on a park bench, and were approached by a man handing out yellow slips of paper. He invited them into the Church of Scientology to discover "how to handle life." And as soon as the man started explaining life to them, the movie ended. Needless to say, I was mad. I want to find out the meaning of life just as much as the next man. This was the point when I realized that the free personality test was just a ploy. They had tricked us to coming into this mysterious church to teach us. Teach us about the wonders of Scientology. They wanted us to join their club. If we had been smart, we would have gotten up and run right then. But no. We stuck around to hear the results of our personality tests, as if we didn’t already know who we were. Justin was first. He went out, and sat at a desk with one of the nicely-dressed men. He was quietly listening to the guy. I was scared for him. When he came back, he refused to tell us what he thought of it all. "You’ll see," was all he said. Then we all took our individual turns. They tried to sell Dave books to make him happier. They told Lisa racism was invented by a psychologist. Ali got into a half-hour debate with one of the men about Scientology as a philosophy or as a real religion. They said God could be whomever you made him. They said you could be a Muslim or a Jew and a Scientologist at the same time. Scientology helps you handle life. With Scientology, life makes sense. My personality test revealed that although I had great communication skills, I didn’t let people close enough to me, making me unhappy. I had previously thought that I was a very happy person. But Mr. Scientologist said that I should take a communication course to learn to be happier. I said I’d think about it. He wanted me to buy a book written by L. Ron Hubbard. I said I’d think about it. I could be like John Travolta or Tom Cruise, fellow Scientologists, he insisted. I said I’d think about it. After we had all been analyzed and felt like we were amongst door to door salesmen selling books and religion, we all wanted to leave. Lisa said she felt traumatized. But Ali wanted to debate some more. We managed to drag him out. As we were running out of the door, one of the men gave us little booklets entitled "The Way To Happiness." We yelled back thanks. "Stop by any time," he said. "Sure!" we called as we scrambled up the stairs. As soon as the hot night air hit us, we felt our freedom return to us. We felt happiness. Bliss. Joy. Deliverance. We were saved from ourselves, our personalities, IQs, three hours of test-taking, movie-watching, sermons, and religion telemarketers. Justin and Dave jumped up and down, over fences, bushes, mailboxes, whooping for joy. They climbed up light poles. Then we all ran, ran, ran. We passed by a group of Hare Krishnas singing. I wanted to sing with them, sing as loud and as long as I could. We were out and about, free! I could feel myself move and the breeze run through my hair. The sounds of the Loop enveloped us as we ran through the crowds to the shuttle stop. We went to the Loop for a tattoo, but we came back with religion. I don’t regret the episode. It was an experience that I’m glad I’ve had. It was educational, enlightening even. But I’m not sure if I’d recommend it to any prospective freshmen as one of the wonders of St. Louis. But if you want to learn how to handle life and be happy, in the Loop, just beyond the lion gates, lies the Church of Scientology. They’re always looking for recruits.

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