The last time I flew... the planes had propellers. Chanting japa constantly is my only shelter! I really couldn't do much of anything else. A lot of people saw and heard me chanting japa. One little boy zoomed in on me as we were standing in line at the car rental which took three hours. I opened my eyes and he was staring very intently into my face and trying to hear what I was saying. I think his family was from Russia.
Mistake...do not bring fresh cut pineapple in a plastic bag.
It will clear security, food is okay just not liquids, but the bag somehow got a hole which meant sticky pineapple juice everywhere.
I was assigned an aisle seat. But the older Italian man next to me on the right in the middle seat had somehow been assigned a seat separate from his wife. She was across the aisle. He was upset about it. At first I didn't see the big deal. So what! It was only a two-hour flight. They were married fifty-two years. But then the attendant started to make the announcements about oxygen and seat cushion flotations and exits, etc etc and I thought, "Oh oh. If something does happen he'll trample me to get to her to help her. The plane was taxiing. If I was going to do something it had to be quick or I would be trampled to death.
Sitting next to his wife in the aisle seat across the aisle from us was an athlete with very long legs. He said he needed to have an aisle seat. I can understand why. But he agreed to sit in my aisle seat and let the man sit in his old seat next to his wife. I would sit in the Italian man's old middle seat wedged between two very nice-looking men. The flight attendant was perfect. She understood immediately and even while the plane was taxiing getting ready to take off she agreed to the plan. The man was so appreciative. My good deed? Or my self preservation instinct? Anyway everyone was happy.
The athlete with the legs turned out be a first season pro baseball player, Tyler Clark? Very sweet young man. And very excited about his new opportunity to become rich and famous. He heard the mantra for two hours straight. Those airplane seats are very close.
I finally did get a car after a three hour wait and more japa non-stop. Everyone got to see and hear someone (me) trying to remember God, it was an SUV. It was all they had left. It took me another hour just to figure out how the "smart" key worked. It is so electronic it almost doesn't a need a driver.
But by now it had become dark and I had to figure out not only how to drive the boat but how to get where I needed to go,.. a suburb south of Boston. Sunday night doesn't mean there isn't any traffic. Everyone tries to get back home from wherever they had been for Monday morning.
I was remember the mood and flavor of living in this part of the country. The trees with their tough bark. The berries and fruits that grow in New England where the winters are long and cold. The rocky soil, hills and an uneven ground. So different from the sand and tropical plants in Florida. How the people are different too. They carry themselves differently and speak differently. There's a twang in their words. I passed a statue of a fisherman wearing a heavy raincoat and big boots and sign saying "Fly with us. It's wicked smart."
I planned to drive about an hour south of the city and expected to find lots of little motels dotting the exists everywhere. Surprise! Boston area is different. Nothing. Not even a gas station. Or else the Holiday Inn for $180. Where are all the little Patel motels? Nothing. I just kept driving. Surely at some point the Boston influence will wear off.
I drove right into the mass exodus of a huge U2 concert at Gillette Stadium. Who knew? Droves. And droves. Walking. Driving. Maybe even flying, I'm sure some of them were. Cars backed up for miles and miles. No way to even stop. Police and traffic barrels and flashing lights everywhere. Oh boy. Now we're at about 12 am. And I'm caught in the current in a huge vehicle I hardly know how to drive.
I finally found a parking lot filled with cars from the event where I could just pull over and stop driving. The attendant didn't stop me from entering and I just sat there for a while. Then I decided to lie down. The seats are all bucket seats. Lying down is not so easy. I forgot to take warm clothes me. I mean it's almost July. In Florida you could boil water on the sidewalk and it doesn't cool off at night.
This is thirteen hundred miles north. It does cool off at night. Even in late June. I tried to wrap myself in the clothes I'd brought for the next few days just to stop my teeth from chattering and lay down in a semi-comatose stay. Thinking, "Why did I do it like this? Is this an over-endeavor? I could have sent my father's body via transport and the cemetery would have buried it like they did for my mother. When she passed away he couldn't make the trip. So we had a small funeral service for her in Florida. I could have done that. Why did I insist on making this huge endeavor at seventy?"
Then I remembered my traveling book distribution days. How many times I had to sleep in a van parked in a parking lot or some other odd place until the sun came up with nowhere to pass. And that was when I woke up and realized I had to pass.
Now what? I have an empty yogurt container. I really don't want to do that if at all possible. Krishna. I can deal with it. Just don't let me forget You. And there it was a porta-potty at the end of the parking lot. That's when I knew everything was going to work out eventually.
By now the parking lot had emptied out and my car was the only car. I guess just do some more driving even though I really don't have any idea where I am by now in relation to where I want to go for tomorrow. Finally a Patel Motel. The home grown variety. The Red Fox Motel. Plenty of vacancies. He wanted an arm and a leg for the rate. But came down a little bit when I cried.
That's the trip. So far.
One thing is... Everyone I met was extremely nice. I mean that. I don't remember meeting so many very beautiful people all in a row like this, one after the other. Everyone doing their service to the best of their ability. They all glowed. I mean it. Even the parking lot attendant at the airport gave me a map and wrote the directions on it so nicely. The baseball player used the light from his cell phone to help me read the ingredients on the granola bar. The motel owner has a sacred Tulsi plant growing in the office window. It was just like that. With everyone. I'm floored.
Jaya Sri Krishna. An unofficial disciple Srila Prabhupada, Meena devi dasi.