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Sunday, Nov 8, 2009
Evangelizing to the young and wasted in party centers around the globe, members of the 24-7 Prayer team hope to bring Jesus to the raving, godless masses.
Dec 10, 2004 | By their eighth night in the West End, Ibiza's low-rent nightlife district, the members of the 24-7 Prayer team don't flinch at anything they see: not at the woman lifting her skirt to ask a group of men what color panties she's wearing; not at the guy with papier-mâché breasts strapped around his waist, standing beside a sign that says "Dexter has the clap"; not at the guy mooning the girl who just spurned his advances, or the one across the street, pulling his dick out of his pants and flopping it on the table for the viewing pleasure of two horrified, delighted young blonds.
They press through the crowds, four sober people among the drunken masses, looking for openings: a friendly face who wouldn't mind a little unsolicited conversation; a swerving body that could use a steady arm to help it home. The bar promoters are the easiest ones to approach. They'll talk to anyone -- most of them work on commission, and every conversation is a potential sale.
A guy with spiky blond hair in a "FCUK" T-shirt calls out to two of the missionaries, Lorraine Joslin and Charli Franklin. "Hey ladies, what you doing later? Stop by for a drink?"
"Sorry, we're not drinking tonight," says Franklin, a throaty-voiced 21-year-old with a tiny rhinestone stud in her nose. This elicits protests and confusion from the tout.
"We're praying," she says.
He looks even more confused.
Franklin and Joslin introduce themselves, and so does he. His name is Mark. "Is there anything we can pray about for you, Mark?" Joslin asks. She's 23, a witty brunet with Cleopatra eyes who gets a kick out of belching in people's faces.
He thinks for a minute, then grins. "Yeah," he says. "Pray that I live until September."
"All right," Joslin says. She sounds a little uncertain. "What makes you think you won't make it until September?"
"I'll probably die from all the drugs I'm doing." He turns toward another group of women, stuttering past on high heels. "Ladies, can I interest you in a drink tonight?"
The missionaries are headed for the Bull Bar, a sour-smelling grotto with a reflex tester on the bar that rewards low scorers with a free drink. The Bull Bar serves as the base of operations for the 24-7 Prayer team on Tuesday and Friday nights. While 24-7's very own DJ, 21-year-old Matt Riley, mixes acid-house music for a crowd that would rather be gyrating to Beyonce, the rest of the team passes out free fruit to patrons. As they see it, handing out fruit is a way of doing something generous in a place where most people are bent on maximizing their own pleasure. It's also a way of warming people up to talk about Jesus.
