Twelve hours in the Ninja Bus. 38 hours in Bryan, TX. Twelve more hours in the bus.
Energy drinks, stinky beef jerky, a DDD BBQ joint, numerous truck stops, missing our turn in Waco, almost getting stuck in the DQ bathroom, spastic noise I can’t call music, laughing til we cried, discovering I still have a “safety stripe” on my black belt, and always feeling safe because I travel with “bodyguards.”
We looked for armadillos on the roadside, but the only ones we saw were fuzzy replicas at the truck stop. I watched for Walker, Texas Ranger to ride by on his horse but he didn’t show. Even better, I got a lesson in knife defense from a real-life county investigator.
I discovered greens, ate smoked bologna and mysterious boudin balls for the first time. I had alligator, not for the first time. In case you’re wondering, it tastes like chicken. I passed on the pork skins, but devoured brisket and strawberry banana cake.
I reconnected with old friends and made new ones. Including a volunteer at the military museum who wouldn’t stop following me.
I worked a finger lock flow, practiced increasing my reach, reviewed bunkai, and tried new things. I saw a well-respected martial artist honored by many who love him. I learned on the mat alongside the masters of our art. I felt privileged. I was privileged.
It was a whirlwind of a weekend, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat!