Miami/Port of Spain
A New Yorker in Miami had asked me if I’m a monk. He was asking on behalf of his son, who I guess was about 12. He had asked if I do martial arts. My answer was that when I became a monk, martial arts hadn’t been so internationally popularized at that time. “I landed myself into the ancient techniques of bhakti, the fine art of devotion,” I remarked. The father and son vacationing in Miami were curious, especially the boy. He had never met a monk before, it was a novel experience for him.
I certainly made friends with him as I did several people on the plane to Port of Spain. People in Trinidad seemed to know the Hare Krishnas. They addressed us with, “Haribol!”
Our plane was full with visitors, with Carnival going on. Today was just one of many party days, it’s called Fantastic Friday, and tomorrow will be Sensational Saturday. To describe Carnival, well, to be honest, the promotions shown on the entertainment flight screen are not for a monk’s eyes. With a slight glance I see it as a Vegas flesh show. It’s quite shameful, really. The shamelessness of it all. I’m so grateful that I could be entertained on another level which is family friendly. Sorry to sound Victorian, but shaking flesh around, ladies and gentleman, has no place for a morally stable world.