At Mass. In Church. I Answered and Spoke on My Cell Phone.

There's probably a special flavor of Roman Catholic gehenna-hell (green fire?) for what I did on Friday, October 21st, so embarrassing that I'm just now confessing it to you, my 6S brothers and sisters because I'm too chicken to face the church music just yet.

I had gotten up at o-dark-thirty in time to iron a shirt and drive four miles to the cathedral, where some thirty folks were spread among the expanse of seating for 3,000 and you need to know the circumstances.

That Mass was one for which I'd made an offering to pray for my sister's healing, and it was her birthday, and it was on her birthday a year ago that my brother, Jack, died, and I'm sitting there when the cell phone rings to my surprise (that it's on, that it's in my pocket, that I'd even bring it INTO church) and we're only one prayer into the Mass with my cheery-chimey ringtone echoing to the pseud0-rafters, TWICE, because I couldn't answer the first ring in time.

"Hello??," I whisper and hear, "This is the Phoenix Police, are you okay?" to which I reply in a whisper, "YES! I'm at church, in Mass, I'm okay" to which the officer replies, "SIR! THIS IS THE POLICE AND I CANT HEAR YOU---ARE YOU OKAY," at which I attempt to cup my hand around the cell's mouthpiece and attempt a louder 'stage whisper,' saying, "I'M IN CHURCH AND YES I'M OKAY!" to which the officer says, "Your phone is breaking up, this is the POLICE, and ARE YOU OKAY?" to which I reply, in full, booming, mega-bass voice, "YES, I'M OKAY."

I do the next ruder thing and exit the pew, turn my back to the priest who's probably pissed but serving the non-rude 29-or-so others, and once I'm in the vestibule, I tell the cop where I am and why, and he says, "The panic alarm has gone off inside your house and we have officers, on-scene!"

Forget me considering asking for my Mass offering back because I only caught the first 243 seconds of it, but the best parts of this happened later, as The City will bill me $75 for a false alarm, my neighbor sent me an email asking why four cop cars and a "paddy wagon looking thing" (they sent the SWAT team?) was in front of the house at 6AM, my dog can't reach the alarm panels and I suspect dead-brother-Jack was messing with me, and if you think I'll feel comfortable walking into Saints Simon & Jude Cathedral in Phoenix anytime soon you definitely don't have a grasp on...need a compass for Catholic guilt trips, and now I'm prayin' to Jesus that (because it was the Cathedral) it wasn't the Archbishop there on the altar, because, you see, I was busy talking on my cell phone to the po-po and turning my back to him to leave the church while leaving the other faithfully devout with something to harrumph about all week and into aeternum