Krishna Bus Tour

Part 25- Sugar Sand

Overweight people stood in a pond of clear water shouting at their kids as our troupe enjoyed the last day of the bus tour. We were only twenty miles from our final destination, the Alachua community.

I was in my element chatting with locals about tractors and farming. I bragged about our tour, "We've been everywhere in the US and even into Canada putting on a show. These kids are really talented. A lot of them are from close by. Today's their homecoming; they're gonna put on their show for their families."

The locals offered me hamburgers from their grill.

"Thanks, I just ate."

"A beer? Cigarette?"

"I'm good, thanks. You know, some of these kids are from England."

"England? I ain't never ..."

I called Mali over, "These people never met an Englishman."

Mali extended his hand, "It's a pleasure, sir."

"D'ja have a good time?"

"Quite so." Mali smiled, "You've got a lovely country."

The locals nodded to each other and inhaled cigarettes.

"It was a pleasure to have met you." Mali shook their hands again, "I'd best be running along."

It was time to hurry again, Manu was calling out orders, "Everyone get into your costumes. If you're not in the drama, put on your best temple clothes. Boys, get on the bus and head to the temple so you can get the stage ready; we'll follow after we get lunch packed up."

I stayed to help pack the girls' bus. Dravinaksha started the engine while Manu closed the luggage compartments. Manu cupped his hands, "OK Drav, hit it."

The engine roared, the wheels spun, but the bus stayed in place. "Go, go, go!" Manu shouted, watching the wheels spin, waving his arms, "Keep going!"

But the bus didn't move.

The entire state of Florida was level except for the slight hill in front of the bus. We couldn't back up because there was a pine tree behind us. Trying to keep his temple clothes clean, Manu dug sand from in front of the wheels.

"Try it again."

The wheels sank deeper. Manu called the boys' bus, "We need you to come back and tow us out of the sand."

A local pointed with his cigarette. "Sugar sand. That's the worst."

Others flicked cigarettes and nodded.

"Only thing worse than sugar sand is gumbo."

There were strong opinions either way and everyone had a sugar-sand story.

Picnic tables filled with an audience dressed in swimsuits and towels. Kids motored up on their four wheelers and perspired under the shade trees. They cheered when the boys' bus arrived and PJ tooted the airhorn.

Manu hooked a tow strap to the bus. We were all in uniform, in our Krishna clothes, ready for the show at the temple. Manu's hands were black from working under the bus.

He shouted, "Go ahead, pull forward, easy, e-e-easy, OK stop!"

"He knows what he's doing," I told the audience. "I've traveled with him across Mexico, off-roading in that same bus."

Both buses roared and sank into the sand as the tow strap tightened. Locals cheered when the silver bus lifted out of its hole and rolled forward.

"He got it."

"I told you he would."

"Don't stop! Don't stop!" Manu moved his hands in a big circle. "Keep going, keep going!"

I jumped on the bus. My friends waved goodbye from the picnic tables, and the race to the temple was on. Manu radioed the boys' bus, "Tell Radha Vinod to be ready to MC. He'll have to talk while they set up sound. Don't bother putting on makeup for the drama—it will just melt in this heat."

***

It was a nine-hour drive to Boone, North Carolina. My car felt tiny and vulnerable after driving the bus. Maharha welcomed me to Heavenly Mountain, a tiny apartment with a two-hundred-mile view.

"You're going to like it here," she said. "The people are really nice. How was the bus tour?"

Gaura Narayana appeared at the glass door overlooking a dozen mountain ranges.

"Hey, Dad."