I’ll never forget my first experience with Scientology. It was 2006 in San Francisco, with my friend John. Back then, the faith’s devoted followers were a common sight every time you exited the BART station—holding two hollow aluminum tubes, asking passersby if they wanted to be “tested.” They looked like kids who had rolled up toilet-paper tubes with aluminum foil, something cheap and vaguely sci-fi looking to use while playing Flash Gordon or Spaceman Spiff.
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