My bus was scheduled to depart at 12.30am, and I arrived at the terminal with just on 1/2hr to spare. This was a reasonable time for a journey such as this. Almost to the moment, some of the Holland group appeared at the terminal too. Friends of Ruth in the base, also from Holland, five of them came over to visit her during their university holidays and were now heading north to see the famed Iguazu Falls. The Problem Although I was not travelling with them, as there were no seats left on their bus, we were both scheduled to leave at 12.30am. But there was a problem. The taxis that were organised to take them to the terminal never showed up, so one of the few people with a car offered to shuttle them all over. In the confusion, one of the team forgot his video camera. It was in a house nearby the base. With 20 minutes left before the buses turned up, we called home to see if the second group had left. They had. We were now left with a choice... wait for the others to get to the terminal and hope there would be enough time to make a third return trip, or jump in a cab and pay for the privilege. Of course they also had the choice of leaving it there, but this did not appear to be a very popular choice. The Solution One of the group decided that he would go in a cab. Knowing how little Spanish they spoke, and figuring that perhaps I may be of some help in hastening the cab, I offered to go with him. We climbed in the cab and asked the driver to head back to the base, aware that our time was short. I explained to the driver that our buses leave at 12.30 am so we needed to make it pretty quick. He drove at a reasonable speed so I assumed that my indications were understood. The Drive To pass the time, I chatted with the driver about small stuff. He had been driving night times from 7pm to 7am for the last five years, and the car he was driving now was only for one year. On our way he kindly pointed out the other car that he drove for three or so years. He also told us about his church and how even though it is more dangerous during the night, he had never had any problems in all of his five years of driving. In turn I told him of the YWAM mission base that we were heading toward and about some of the things that we did there. I also told him about my mate Chris and how he was robbed by slashing with a knife. As he heard this particular story, he ended up paying so much attention to me that the car slowed to less than walking pace. We were quickly running out of time. A Misunderstanding Our slow speed never really changed after the story, and in an effort to hasten things along a little, I asked him what time it was. He happily told me that it was 1am. Greatly alarmed, I responded that it couldn't be since our buses left at 12.30am. He checked again and laughed. It was only 12.20am. Alarmed, I told him how we were now in a state of incredible haste as we still had not reached the house with the camera and had to make it back in time for the buses. The man swalled hard and asked me if we were actually travelling on the bus at 12.30am. When I confirmed that this was the case, he apologised profusely, explaining that he understood that we had just seen off some friends that were taking the bus. What a Change On hearing this, our slow pace suddenly became lightning speed. Within a moment we were racing through the streets with houses whizzing past us faster than we could focus. The bumps and holes in these earthen lanes only served to accentuate the speed of our ride. It took very little time to reach the house, where we waited patiently for what seemed like ages for the residents to open the door. Fortunately they had the camera in hand, and we both raced back to the cab and jumped in with actions that looked more at home in a pit-stop change over than our urban settings. The Return Our driver, rather than turning around, simply backed up at high speed to reach the main avenue and took off again at lightning speed. It was certainly the fastest ride I have ever been privileged to enjoy over these rough roads. Around buses and squeezing past cars, we finally made it back to our destination just on 12.30am. Triumphant, we wander back to our waiting group with the camera held high. We had made it, and what a ride it was too. Prologue As it turned out, both of our buses were delayed. Mine by 30 minutes, while the others had to wait at least another 50 minutes before their ride came along. There is a little story behind that too, where I cockily sauntered over to my bus, emphasising to Ruth that I was leaving now while she still had 50 minutes to wait, only to discover that it was not my bus at all and had to return to the group with my tail between my legs. Lesson learned. Sorry Ruth.