Krishna Bus Tour

Part 2-Alachuanians

Chapter 2 - Alachua, Florida

Our headlights cast eerie shadows through the Spanish moss hanging from trees over the dirt road "... like the beginning of a scary movie," I said.

Gaura Narayan's face glowed from his phone screen. "It's always dark when we get here."

The Alachua Krishna community started as a quiet farm. Many of our neighbors from Krishna Road were drawn here by the schools and youth programs. The bus tour is based here, staffed by Alachuanians.

"There they are." Gaura pointed to a row of buses across the field.

With no moon or streetlights, flashlights bounced like fireflies around the bus. Gaura Narayana jumped out of the car and ran to a circle of shadows that hugged and shouted. These were the people he'd been texting all day.

The shadows were glad to see me, though subdued in comparison. I asked where Manu was.

"He was over there," a girl's voice said, "but then he was over there. He's kinda like everywhere."

I found Manu working on an electrical problem on the bus. He looked happy and tired. "I'm glad you're here." He smiled. "We can't do the tour without our drivers."

"Aww, I do it because it's fun," I said. "Where should I put my stuff, and how can I help?"

Manu adjusted the flashlight strapped to his head and took me to another bus, a school bus with bunks and divider walls made of unpainted plywood. It was rough compared to the silver bus.

"This is the boys' bus. You can take this bunk for now."

This would be my home for the next six weeks. Darkness hid my disappointment. The silver bus is much better.

"Thank you. Is there anything I can help with right now?"

"Try to get some sleep. We're driving to Houston tonight."

I saluted, "Yes sir!"

Manu smiled and went back to the electric problem on the silver bus.

As I slept on my assigned bunk, young men fluttered in and out of the dark like cheerful bats, talking and singing. One of them sat on me. "Oh, sorry. We'll go outside."

***

A gentle voice woke me, "Mitrasena prabhu. It's your turn to drive."

I forced my eyes open. The road noise was much louder when I pulled out my earplugs. "Where are we?"

"I don't know."

It was dark, I didn't even know who I was talking to. "OK," I said. "I'll be ready in ten minutes."

"I'll tell the driver."

The stranger left me alone. My watch said 2:20 a.m. I climbed from my bunk and braced myself as the bus turned sharply.

The driver was from England. "I'm really tired." He didn't say the R in "tired." "Have you driven this bus before?" He dropped another R.

"No, I'll need a lesson." I tried to sound American so he wouldn't think I was making fun of him.

After locating the high beams, wipers, and horn, I was driving. It was like a sports car compared to the big silver tour bus we drove through Mexico last winter.

The roar of the tires and wind whooshing under the door made it seem we were going much faster than 63 mph, our top speed. I traded peace and quiet to drive a noisy bus through Louisiana at two-thirty in the morning, the3w taillights of the silver bus my only scenery.

Houston was our target, where there would be the biggest ever North American Hare Krishna Youth Conference.