In time, I want to document my time spent as a half-crazed young Christian in Pennsylvania. The youth groups, the hay rides, the youth pastors, my Vodka-drinking 15-year old peers in Christ, my native talent for blasphemy. These two documents are a start.

I used to be in youth group, in West Chester, PA.

I attended the Presbyterian Youth Triennium at Perdue University in 1988.

Several of the kids in my group took this time with God for sex. One of the girls stole vodka from a liquor store and half the young Presbyterians got drunk and threw up. Other kids stole art supplies from a department store to make posters for our display area.

One girl wanted to kill herself. Her boyfriend, also on the trip, refused to sleep with her anymore. His mother was a group chaperone.

I went and found her and told her she'd be okay. We sat on the sidewalk. I didn't know her very well.

The next day, she seemed to be doing fine. She avoided me after that.

These were rich kids. I was poor. They didn't like me very much.