Babtists.
I went to the local Baptist multi-plex, several times.
Do you know what happens to new-guy at Baptist-multi-plex?
Nothing.
Mobs of people. Theater rock-star ‘worship’ service. Coffee out in the lobby. Not. One. Person. Shakes. My. Hand.
Other than the name-tag-guy at the door, no one, and I mean not one, engages me in conversation. If I force someone to talk to me by standing in their way and sticking my hand out, I get nervous chit-chat for a short time, and then the person leaves - unless that person is over 60 years old.