Clearly this wasn't the synagogue for me, which was unexpectedly upsetting. Even though I had already decided that communities were useless, since my prior experiences in them never had happy endings, I was secretly looking forward to fitting in somewhere. This place would have been convenient.
My friend M. wasn't about to let me give up me. Come to my synagogue, he said. It's fun, really. Judaism Heavy and Avant Garde, with all the neo-retro shuckling, wasn't my speed, but his version seemed too Lite. I still only knew the serious kind, where rabbis yelled and scowled and congregants, except those with a lot of money, sat in the back row and felt guilty. I had a difficult time imagining that M.'s synagogue was entirely kosher.