I noticed the first batch of Jehovah's Witnesses when the little red car pulled up across the street. For the longest time, nobody emerged, but finally the doors swung open and two ancient women - wool coats, blue rinses - slowly pulled themselves out. The way they clutched the stack of pamphlets to their bosoms was a dead giveaway.
Nobody answered at the first house. I knew they wouldn't, they never do. But I had to give those senior Witnesses credit, they were prepared to wait it out. Finally, after a third press of the doorbell they moved on, shuffling down the sidewalk to the next house.
But before they reached it, a single elderly faithful emerged from the other direction and scooped them.
It was a a tag team of Watchtowers, a collision of Witnesses. ! was hoping to see a throw down, an octogenarian gloves-off no-holds-barred battle for souls. But alas, the original team simply shuffled back to their car, where they sat for a while as they re-evaluated their strategy. In the end they simply drove to the end of the block, turned around and parked on the other side of the street.
I imagine the lone Witness got way more notches on her soul belt today.