Day 1 or The Shoulder is Always the Fastest Lane in Trinidad

June 19, 2010

Tonight, as I flew over the Caribbean sea, the light from the half moon reflecting off the obsidian surface of the water, I thought how blessed I am that I am about to experience one of the adventures on my personal 1,000 Places to See/Things to Do Before I go Belly Up list. I am going to meet face to face with one of the last living dinosaurs on earth, a leatherback turtle. The turtle got added to "The List" a couple of years ago when I saw and episode of Globe Trekker. Justine, the host, was lying prone in the sand on a beach in Trinidad, her face just inches from that of a giant egg laying Leatherback. I could see on her face, wide with wonder, that she was having a profound experience, like she was touching The Infinite. And since I am all about the Cosmic Connection these days, I made a mental addition to the 1,000PTS/TTDBIGBU list. And now here I am, flying to my own date with a turtle.

My guest house was kind enough to send a taxi to pick me up at the airport, and as I exited customs I saw the sign with my name spelled in a new and exciting way. My driver, however, was shaking his head. "Two hours of traffic to get into Port of Spain, eh?" (I haven't figured out how to write the Trinidadian accent, so just imagine Jamaican, mon. Et's close eenough for de time, eh?) He lead me out to a 1979 Caprice Classic, eggplant colored. This car screamed to be on Pimp My Ride. It was the ultimate pimp-mobile. Inside was a time capsule of automobile nostalgia: first generation automatic windows and door locks with the flat metal toggle, old school radio, bench seats. This car would translate to instant street cred back home. I sensed he was pretty proud of it too by the way he answered "1979" with decided verve when I asked what year it was.

On the ride from the airport I learned that lane demarkations in Trinidad are just suggestions really. When the traffic came to a painful stand still along with the air, and we sat with the windows open in the oppressive heat sucking the exhaust of the other hoopty cars inches from us, my driver swerved left onto the shoulder, and proceeded to drive, unimpeded, for a substantial distance. "Dee shoulda ees always da fastest lane in Trinidad, eh." If you say so Trini dude. Hence, what would have been a three hour drive from the airport, became a two hour drive. We passed, to my immense surprise, Churches Chicken and Popeyes. But I was downright pissed when we passed the combo Pizza Hut/KFC. Really, commercial world domination is annoying. When I groaned at KFC my driver said, "What, you don't like eet? KFC ees da nationale dish in Trinidad!"

In my room at my guest house at half past midnight, I showered, popped a laxative to pre-empt the encroaching Vacation Constipation, cranked the blessed window box A/C to the max possible, and drifted off into an uneasy, humid sleep.