We were ready to go on a moment’s notice as we packed most everything the night before and the road ahead was going to be long and hard. We had just come out of our room and locked the door when a car pulled into the driveway. It must be our taxi, I reasoned, as who else would be up at this ungodly hour! I couldn’t tell the brand of car with the lights in my eyes as I approached but when I got closer I saw “Cortina” written on the hood. Mr. Koury opened the door and helped us put the bags into the trunk before shaking hands and having proper introductions. I excused myself before getting in the car and took our room key and $20 US in an envelope and put it under the office door. We included a Thank You note for all they did for us over and above renting us a room.
Mr. Koury was proud of his car and he kept it spotless on the inside even though the outside showed battle scars from the Jamaican roads and weather. He told us his brother had imported the car from England several years back when he returned to live and then sold it to him on his unexpected return to England a short time later. We were heading for Savanna La Mar to catch the country bus to Kingston where we needed to take another taxi to the airport. We discussed the fare on the way and he offered to take us to Mandeville for a reasonable price so we decided to take him up on the offer. Less time on the bus was worth it’s weight in gold.
We arrived at the Mandeville town square just after 8:00 in the morning, paid Mr. Koury and gave him a nice tip before joining the waiting passengers for the next bus. It was just a short wait and the bus pulled in and gave the passengers a little time to use the toilet and grab some food before continuing on. We managed to get a good seat towards the rear of the bus but not all the way to the back bench seat. The conductor tossed our backpacks up on the roof rack and my wife secured a third bag with her souvenirs and some snacks under our seat. Soon we were on our way. I had the ESSO map in my lap and the invoice with instructions and suggestions from Peter in my hand while looking it over using the light coming in through the smeary windows.
We agreed that Peter’s help had been undeniably essential to making this adventure to date a huge success so we wanted to see what he recommended for our last day. I don’t remember what he wrote word for word but it went something like this:
“When you start coming into Kingston, look for a good, safe spot to get off the bus and find your taxi to the airport. Whatever you do “DON’T STAY ON THE BUS TO THE END OF THE LINE”. There are city buses to the airport near there but it is just too dangerous for a tourist. It ends at the Kingston Public Market which is full of thieves and pickpockets.
Okay. That couldn’t be any plainer, right? It sounded so simple as I began tracking our progress on the map as we went along. After four or five hours of stopping and starting again, I started to see we were coming into the outskirts of Kingston. I turned to my wife and said, “Let’s start looking for a good, safe spot to get off, okay?” She nodded yes and we began scanning both sides of the road. “What about around here?” I asked but she nodded “no”. After awhile, “Here?”, “Are you kidding?” “NO!” A few turns later and we were into the worse areas I had witnessed in Jamaica. And then it happened, we pulled into the downtown stop and the driver said, “Kingston. All off. End of the line”.
I was feeling in a panic but didn’t want to upset my wife any more than she was already. A nice Indian couple across the aisle asked me if we needed any help. I quickly answered, “Yes, thank you”. They asked where we were going and I said the Kingston Airport and the man said there were city buses on the other side of the market and they would take us there. We followed them off the bus and caught our backpacks as the conductor threw them from the roof. We quickly made sure nothing of value was in any pocket of the packs that a pickpocket could get and we put the packs on our back. I checked my pockets and turned my wallet sideways and wedged it down to the bottom of my hip pocket and we were ready to go.
Off the Indian couple went single file through the bustling crowd with me bulldozing my way first and my wife, holding on to my backpack to keep us from getting separated, bringing up the rear. I was getting bumped around a little and I kept slapping my back pocket to feel my wallet when a guy threw some change down in front of me and then bent over to slowly pick it up. I pushed him out of the way but this had taken my mind off the surroundings for a brief second. I reached back and “NO WALLET!” I was in panic. I didn’t have any money in there as I don’t carry money in my wallet but I did have my Driver’s License and our Immigration Cards we needed to surrender at the airport.
I looked up ahead just in time to see a guy pushing through the crowd. He had been right next to me when the guy threw the change as a diversion. I just caught a glimpse of my blue Velcro wallet being shoved under a coconut on a vendor’s cart as he kept going. I rushed up pushing everyone in my path until I reached the cart and grabbed my wallet. I didn’t see the Indian couple anymore but I could see the row of city buses so I made my way with my wife in tow out of the crowd and up to the airport bus.
I was shaking all over in fear and anger. I then noticed my wife’s backpack as she took it off and put it on the ground. Most of the zippers had been opened and a pair of pink panties was hanging out of one opening. I had to laugh a little at this as she packed dirty clothes purposely near the openings for such an eventuality. She was always way ahead of me. We paid the fare to the airport for 4 people so we could put our backpacks in the bus with us. After taking a seat, I looked out the window and saw three youths standing under a tree just 15 or so feet away. I recognized two of them as the pickpocket and the money thrower. I defiantly took out my wallet and held it up to the window feeling superior to them and challenging them to take it from me. I was so jacked up on adrenaline that I was just acting stupid.
The pickpocket youth laughed and approached the window and I cracked it open to talk. He said, “Hey mon. Nothing personal. We were just hungry and needed to eat.” I didn’t believe a word of it but my wife spoke up. “Bill, we didn’t have to take a taxi so why not give him $10 even if he is not telling the truth because maybe he is!” She handed me a $10 bill and I pushed the end through the cracked window and he took it. As he turned he said, “I will give it back to you someday. Thanks mon.” We made it ontime to the airport and by 5:00pm that day we were over the Caribbean heading for New Orleans and then on to Mexico!
((((In 1996 he came to my new wife’s house in Kingston and paid me back the $10)))).
Originally Posted by LivinInThe603
