Read Online Blown for Good Behind the Iron Curtain of Scientology by Marc Headley - Free Book Online

without sandals, you’re not!” Bill answered back.
    “Huh?” I replied, questioning both him and the conversation that was taking place.
    “Per the Flag orders from L. Ron Hubbard, you can’t take a shower without your sandals. You need to bring them with you in order to be able to take a shower.” Bill was putting his own set on as he was reciting this.
    “No one told me about any sandals, I don’t have any and I need to take a shower,” I state, as if that will be enough to get a shower around this place.
    “Well, you should get down to the canteen and get yourself some,” Bill said as he casually left the room towards the showers.
    Getting down to the ground floor and back was a good 15 minutes with the slow ass elevators. I didn’t even know where the damn canteen was anyway! I grabbed my towel and headed towards the showers. I will take my chances with the whole sandals rule. I go through the swinging doors and wouldn’t you know it, right on the wall of the shower room was a white sheet of paper that has the sandal rule from L. Ron Hubbard printed out in big letters in quotes! I glanced over at the few showering EPFers, each of them were wearing sandals. You have to be kidding me!
    As I was leaving, Bill came out from the wall of crappers and headed towards the showers while pointing to his watch with the “better hurry” look.
    What a douche, I thought to myself, imagining how he would look with a new pair of sandals shoved in his mouth.
    I got down to the ground floor by the painfully slow elevators that seemed to stop at every floor even though most of the time no one was there.
    I got out and asked a girl in the hall about the canteen, “It’s downstairs, next to the galley,” she said.
    I was there all damn day and nobody told me about this, but now when I had this tiny window of time to get a badly needed shower, I had to go out and buy some sandals. This is brilliant. I finally made it to the canteen. I looked around. The place was packed with people. There were so many people buying candy bars, soda, gum and cigarettes, that it was almost silly. As I looked around, that was all the place had: junk food and cigarettes. No damn sandals!
    I went to the guy at the counter and asked him where I could get some sandals in my panicky new guy voice. “George’s General Store,” he answered while selling someone a pack of Camel non-filters and not even looking at me.
    I knew where that was, and I thought they might even have some sandals there! George’s General Store was a tiny building across the street from the Complex that was like a mini market for Scientologists. It had everything from vitamins to dictionaries. And oddly enough, sandals too. It was half the size of the canteen and had twice as many people inside. Half these people were buying junk food and the other half were like me, buying random items that you would not normally find in a mini market.
    After I paid for an overpriced and rather plain pair of flip flop sandals, I made my way back across the street to the Complex with a towel still in tow and my new sandals. The elevator had about 50 people waiting for it. The rest of the Complex staff were now off duty and going up to their rooms! I headed towards the stairs and up five flights to the floor the EPF dorm was on. As I left the stairwell and headed towards the showers, I realized that no showers were going to be had. There was a line of at least ten guys queued up outside the showers! There were guys waiting inside, too!
    I caught my breath and went back to the room. No shower tonight. Maybe if I got up early enough, I could get one in the morning.
    I dumped my towel by my bag and grabbed my toothbrush, I headed toward the bathroom and realized that the bathroom in the dorm was just a sink and that’s it. There was no toilet in the room anywhere. There were three guys waiting to brush their teeth and two brushing at the same time, huddled around the sink.
    This was a signpost