"Quick! Hide under the bed and don't answer the door!"

Growing up, if anyone knocked on the door that looked like they were selling something or handing out pamphlets, my mother just pretended to not be home. This entailed rushing around closing the blinds and turning off the TV.

Obvious?

Yes.

I can only imagine what the people thought as they walked up to the door of a house that was a flurry of activity turned dead quiet in the matter of a few moments.

For some unknown reason this habit stuck with me as an adult. Anytime people come to the door, I just pretend to not be home. I shush my children, but I don't close the blinds.

I'm sure they've never figured me out. I'm a sneaky one.

Knowing this about me, it might come as a surprise to my dear friends that I willingly spoke to a Mormon missionary boy on the train home yesterday. He was sitting beside me talking to the guy on his other side and I actually spoke to him first.

Odd, I know.

But, there was a reason for my complete change from my usual behavior. He had an American accent. Yes. He. Did.

He's from Detroit and I spoke to him for a good 15 minutes, just to hear his American accent. The only American accent I hear other than my own comes from the TV. I thought this was quite a treat, speaking to another American. In person.

Naturally, him being a missionary and all he handed me a pamphlet, that I smiled politely and accepted. I even gave him a bit of an education on Baptists.

You see, he didn't realize that Baptists believe in baptism. Immersion, no less. He was very impressed.

His stop came along and he left the train and I thought the rest of my train ride would be quiet and uneventful.

Then, the guy behind me starts speaking to me. He is a Christian and is warning me about Mormonism. I, once again, politely smiled and nodded. I couldn't quite bring myself to explain to him that I had no intention of converting, I just wanted to hear an American accent.