Antigua Taxi Drive

The roads in parts of Antigua are full of holes but that doesn't seem to bother the taxi drivers.

The hotel was on the windy east side of the island. It wasn't a bad spot but wasn't in walking distance of anywhere except the beach. I was there to watch some cricket. Everyone in the place was there to watch some cricket.

A group of us found Rodney, a mini-bus driver, who agreed to collect us in the morning and return us to the hotel in the evening. These games are supposed to last for five days. For three days, all went well. Rodney took us and he brought us back.

On the fourth day we had two spare tickets. Rodney decided that he would have them. At 11.00am I spotted him inside the ground carrying two bottles of rum and a bottle of whisky. He had a buddy with him who was carrying a large plastic sack full of ice.

By 6.30pm Rodney could barely walk but said he was, "Just fine to drive man."

The roads back to the hotel were pitch black, no street lights, just holes everywhere. The bus bounced from side to side, from one hole to the next. The radio was blasting out the latest Soca sounds and Rodney sang along. The night got darker and darker and we suddenly realized that we didn't have any lights on.

"Lights Rodney - Lights!" someone shouted.
"What man?"
"Lights Rodney - Switch the damn lights on!"
"Oh sorry man," he mumbled apologetically. Then he reached up and switched on the taxi's interior lights.

Rodney didn't arrive at the hotel the next morning. Someone else turned up in a different bus. There was no sign of wreckage anywhere at the side of the road so I guess he was still sleeping it off somewhere. I hope so. He could have killed us but he was a nice guy.