We’d all been astonished by the sheer number of people and animals that were routinely squeezed into Tap Taps and other transportation vehicles in Haiti.  The morning we headed to the airport to leave was our swan song ode to this amazing daily feat.  The two vans that we’d been traveling in for days were supposed to arrive at 6.30am to take us all to the airport since our flights to various places all left Port au Prince within an hour of each other.  We all dutifully assembled at the appointed time and place – and one drive and van arrived on time…the other not. 

We waited until after 7am and despite calls to the other driver who said he was “five minutes away”, time clicked on with no sign of him.  So, despite some objection from the driver on site, we all (all nine of us) along with all our luggage, piled in to the single van and asked to be taken to the airport.  The driver saw we were totally serious and acquiesced.  The only way to describe the scene in the van is a tap-tap on steroids.  People on bags, bags on people, people on people – we fit right into the rush hour traffic scene.

About ten minutes into the 45 minute or so ride, we passed the other driver on the road up to the hotel.  He saw us – we saw him. He called our driver on cellphone and the string of Creole expletives that came rushing out of our poor friend’s mouth needed no translation. We’d put ourselves at risk, him at risk for transporting us this way, and he was literally mad as a hatter. Our biggest fear was him splitting a proverbial gut as he careened through traffic trying to get us to the airport in time for our flights.  In truth, we all got a good laugh out of this predicament (though I am not so sure the noble driver did) and we agreed this was a rite of passage for our commitment to Haiti.  After many thank yous and significant tipping, I think we parted amicably with our driver friend.  It did make me feel better to find out that the driver who missed our pick up was not irresponsible…he was caught in the mayhem of morning traffic. We gently schooled him to “call next time” and he demurred.  A little teaching never hurt.