Krishna Bus Tour

Part 24-Key West

Key West is the last island on the chain off of Florida. We crossed a series of bridges the night before and stopped to watch the sun color the clouds as it set into the ocean. The next morning, I woke to Radha Vinode's voice, "I can't believe it! Oh my god! It's a chicken ... and it's crossing the road!"

We were going to reenact a moment of Key West history. A newspaper reporter took a photo of all of us posing before the bus, and we made the front page of the local paper. Dravinaksha was the star since he had been at the original event forty years ago.

He'd been the bus driver when a team of Krishna monks sang at the pier every evening at sunset. Watching the sun set has always been a part of Key West social life. The Krishna people added live music, and the tradition has continued. Since then, the area has built up with shops and tourists.

***

Everyone was dressed in their best Hare Krishna clothes.

Dravinaksha confirmed, "This is the spot, right here ... that's where we sat with Vishnujana."

Tourists gathered and asked me, "When does the show start?"

"It starts real soon," I said, "and you're part of it. Here's the words. Do you like to sing?"

"Sure!"

The girls started the kirtan. I pointed to the card, "Here's the words. When she's done singing, then it's our turn."

"Oh, OK! This looks fun!"

"It is. We've been all over North America this summer and this is our last stop. We came all the way from Vancouver so you could sing with us."

The guy saluted the kirtan with his beer.

"OK, it's our turn, here we go ..., Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare ..."

More people gathered, "What's this about?"

Tourists from China, Venezuela, and Idaho stayed past sunset. Our troupe took the kirtan to the rest of the town, where people in outdoor bars waved and cheered. They couldn't believe their good fortune to see a group of young Hare Krishnas bless their evening and waved their drinks in appreciation.

***

"I'll drive the first shift," PJ said. "Get some sleep. It's eight hours to Alachua."

I plugged in my Hearos, preparing for a long night. Florida is a great big state and Key West is as far away as you can get from anything.

It started to rain. It rained so hard I heard it through my earplugs.

"Close all the windows," PJ shouted.

Followed by more shouting.

"It's hot!"

"Why can't we open the windows?"

"Duh, everything will get wet."

When it rained harder PJ pulled into a gas station. "I can't see, how can I drive?"

The boys watched the rain through the front windows. One boy said, "I want to go out there."

PJ smiled. "Put on your swimsuit. Go for it."

"Who wants to go with me?"

Everyone did.

I tried to sleep but had to see what PJ was laughing at. Amal led a dozen boys in the downpour, stomping water to keep time, "Radhe Radhe Radhe Barshane wali Radhe!" They danced, shirts off, laughing when the rain came down even harder. In the holy city of Vrindavan, Radha's devotees throw themselves into dancing with complete abandon.

It began as a joke, the boys waved their hands, gesturing in imitation, but they weren't laughing anymore. The tour was almost over, perhaps it was fatigue, or egos worn smooth from travel—for a long moment they were carefree sadhus dancing in the headlights of the bus. "Radhe Radhe Radhe Barshane wali Radhe!"

When the rain stopped, cars in the gas station flashed their lights and honked in appreciation.

I returned to my bunk. "If I don't sleep, we're all going to die tonight."

***

"Radha Vinode, you've got to keep me awake. What did you like best on the whole bus tour?"

"That kirtan in the rain!"

"You mean we could have bypassed everything else we did all summer?"

"It was a culmination."

"And the main highlight for you."

"Yes, definitely."

"Now I feel sorry for everyone on the other bus."

"Yes, they missed it."