I decided to stay put and wait. Tick, tock. 10 minutes went by. Tick, tock. 15 minutes never seemed so long. Tick, tock. 20 minutes and still no driver.
That’s when my brain went into a screaming panic.
Had I mentioned that I was traveling solo? I was on the other side of the planet, in a country I had never visited before, where I knew exactly no one. I was ALL ALONE, without the comfort of group or even a travel companion.
Now I questioned the wisdom of my decision and my singlemindedness.
I allowed this brief, silent meltdown in my head. And then I had to get a grip.
Plan B: I would have to find my own way to the hotel.
From my spot outside baggage claim, I scanned the lobby. Aha, there were hotel desks. I walked over and found one that listed my hotel. There was young woman behind the desk.
Me: I have a reservation at the (blah-blah) hotel. I cannot find my driver.
Do you know (so-and-so) from (such-and-such) safari company?
She: No.
Me: Do you have a transfer service?
She: No.
Well, this wasn’t helpful at all. I stood there, thinking. It was still before 8am, too early to call the company office.
She: See if you can find him one more time. If not, we will get you a safe taxi.
She said “safe”. I knew what that meant. Someone they knew who would get me there safely. I had advised female travelers on personal security for years. I wasn’t about to get into a car with a complete stranger. If I disappeared between the airport and the hotel, it was possible no one I knew would ever see me again.
Would I ever get to the East Coast and the Indian Ocean?
