I Driver Three: Our First Night In Delhi

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To avoid scams, the government issues prepaid taxi fares that the airport. I presented our destination’s address and was told that it would cost Rs 250 (about $5) and that any of the yellow and black taxis outside of door two would accept this fare.

I wanted out of our taxi before we even left the safety of the airport terminal. Within seconds, our bags were lofted to the top of the tiny car (I think it was something called a Tata) and secured to the roof with a rope. As we sped out of the terminal, our driver looked puzzled as he reviewed the address and frantically texted someone on his phone. We asked if he knew where it was and he said yes. Then he said “I driver three,” which now--in retrospect--I have taken to mean that it was his third day on the job.

He pulled over on the road. No, not the side of the road. Not the shoulder of the road. He just stopped the car in the far left lane, threw on his flashers, and--as an after thought of politeness--gestured to a bottle of water in offering. Pierce and I both declined. At which point, ‘Driver Three’ said a hearty “I back” and got out of the car--clutching his cell phone and our address in one hand as he dodged the six lanes of on-coming traffic. We were left to sit in the car and flinch as the on-coming cars whizzed by--a series of harsh headlights. I snapped a picture of the traffic and I dramatically wondered if this might be one of the last things we ever saw.

When ‘Driver Three’ returned, we were again on our way--weaving through traffic in a lane that only our driver seemed to be able to access, honking our horn wildly as we narrowly squeezed past large trucks, and breathing in the thick Delhi air as it passed through the open windows. I attempted to look through the travel guide book and find our destination, but in the darkness and heat I failed.

‘Driver Three’s’ strategy was one that employed the locals. We made a series of stops along our way--soliciting directions from various tuk-tuk drivers, taxi drivers, others drivers in moving traffic, and pedestrians. While the individuals answered in Hindi, it appeared that the directions usually consisted of “Drive straight, make a u-turn, and then a harsh left”--which is what we did until we were again lost and asked for directions. The directions appeared to be repeated with each individual, sending us on an seemingly endless circle around our destination.

My favorite stop consisted of a visit to what appeared to be an outdoor camp. In the darkness I could make out a fire, some tents, and straw-woven cots strewn with people. As the driver asked for directions from a group of men who appeared to be eating a late-night dinner of nann (bread), I must have longingly looked at one man’s dinner. He smiled and said “Wel Come. You want food?” and gestured to the bread in his lap. Startled by this kind offer and overwhelmed by the crush of Delhi, I replied with a sincere, “What was that?” Pierce readily interpreted and declined the offer for nann as we again sped off into the night.

We finally made it somewhere. That’s about all I can say. After one and half hours, we pulled into a complex where pot-bellied men loitered around the grounds in white tank tops sipping tea under street lights. ‘Driver Three’ was sure this was the place and started to untangle our bags. I’ll concede that it might have been the place, but I was tired and wanted a room with a bed and a shower. I didn’t want to bunk up with these tank-top-wearing-tea drinkers in the middle of Delhi. With defeat, I decided that we should just start over and asked to return to the airport. ‘Driver Three’ said that we’d have to pay another Rs 300 for the journey back. While this was annoying and most assuredly over priced, we were at his mercy and probably would have paid much more for a safe return to the airport.

We sped back to the airport and I gained an appreciation for just how close the airport actually was to our destination and how lost we really had been. ‘Driver Three’ made a habit of not slowing down for the speed bumps. As we raced over one particularly severe speed bump, plastic pieces of the dash fell into Pierce’s lap. ‘Driver Three’ said “Sorry” and--without even taking his eyes from the road--pushed the pieces back into place with one hand.

Once we returned to the airport, we gave ‘Drive Three’ some money and headed back into the terminal--making a beeline to the tourist information center. Within minutes, we had a hotel booked and a ride to our new destination. Our new car was in sharp contrast to our previous ride. We were ushered outside by at least four porters with friendly smiles. Our bags were loaded snugly in the car. We were offered seat belts and air conditioning. We spent the night at an expensive hotel near the airport that appeared to cater to Japanese businessmen, but the soft bed, hot shower, and hassle-free sleep were worth the price.

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Comments

[Mom and Dad]

No wonder you were so tired!!
Wow, quite a story! I am sure glad you asked to go back to the airport..wouldn't want you sipping tea and bunking with those tank top guys!

[Russ Urzi]

Reminds me of Athens
Wow, great writing. I had a similar experience, but only in terms of category and not details.