no ordinary taxi...

Another story for which a picture would have been worth a thousand words.

Yesterday morning I awoke at the crack of dawn to meet Anne and Heather on the esquina nearby because we had to go to Managua for the day. As we approached the road that leads to the bus terminal, Anne proceeded to hail the first cab that appeared. As it slowed down to pick us up, Heather and I noticed that this cab already had 2 passengers in the backseat--and it was not a sedan but a hatchback. The taxista, anxious to earn a few more cordobas, assured us we would all fit. I had my doubts, but what are you going to do? We were already running late. So Anne took the remaining spot in the backseat, and the driver told us that me and Heather could sit in the front seat with him. That might have been true in a sedan or if we were each 10 years old, but two grown women?

After I got in, it became clear that this was going to be a tight situation. Literally. Nevertheless, I squished myself over to the left as far as I could until I was practically embracing our driver and sitting on top of the gear shift, and Heather squeezed in next to me just enough to shut her passenger door. Given that it was 6:45am and I hadn't consumed any coffee yet, I did the only responsible thing one would do in this situation: I began to laugh uncontrollably. “Of all the taxis in Leon,” I sputtered. “And Anne chose this one.” “Oh this isn't even close to being full,” Heather commented. “I've seen taxis with twice this many passengers.” The driver was amused by my antics, I think; after the other 2 passengers got out at their destination and we rearranged ourselves, he turned to me and asked, “Are you comfortable?”. We eventually reached the terminal without incident, despite the obstacle of my left hip on the shift for ¾ of the journey (it's a good thing we never had to go higher than 3rd gear).

Once we got to Managua, I had another “first”--riding a city bus there. We were the last ones on and thus stood toward the front of the bus. I was holding onto the back of driver's seat while carrying Anne's backpack on my shoulder, and every sudden turn or speed change sent the bag flying into his head until Anne took it from me. It's seriously a miracle that we didn't have an accident. Of course, blessed Anne assured me this bus was far from full-- “full is when people ride in the cargo hold”. I am proud to say, however, that I managed to hang onto the handhold, unzip my purse, pull out my busfare, and close my purse without falling over—all while the bus was in motion!

Later in Managua, when I was retelling this story in a meeting, it seemed even funnier and I could barely choke the words out I was laughing so hard. “One day soon these experiences will cease to be funny and just become normal,” I concluded. “But until then, aren't you glad I'm able to laugh about them?”