Bleak House (Part A)

Vietnamese legislation dictates that when traveling to the airport by taxi, at least 2 things need to go wrong. This was originally a Vietnamese Tourist Board initiative aimed at forcing people to stay a bit longer in the country, even though it made them swear to never return. It is so common now that we rarely even think about where it came from. It’s like “cheers”. Or butter.

Today's cab ride to Hanoi Airport was on par with the others. It started normally. I flagged him down, confirmed my destination, put my bag in the boot and climbed into the back seat.

The driver just sat there for a while, doing nothing. Then he picked up his two-way radio and talked to head office for a bit. I heard the word for "airport" and assumed he was receiving his instructions from Moneypenny. His prescribed list of blunders for my trip:

1. Start off on the wrong foot

He headed off in the opposite direction to the airport.

Lucky for me, the word "U-Turn" is international. I used it loudly to no avail. He nodded, pointed forward at the road and continued driving. I eventually opened my door to make him stop. He stopped and I forced him to do a 3-point turn, or should I say a 7 point turn, before we headed off in the right direction.

2. Sweat potato

For the first half of the journey he couldn’t get the air conditioner to work. I intervened. It was not my turn to be the guy in the queue with the wet patch, aka Nana’s accident.

3. Find a traffic jam

We took a few turns which I thought were a shortcut, only to realize that he was looking for a traffic jam. He found one

This one was caused by (yet another) fatal motorbike accident. It was appropriately accessorized with a circle of slack-jawed onlookers, a mangled bike and a dead body.

‘What a lovely parting image for the tourists’, I thought as we inched past.

4. Make the potato yell "Stop!” and “U-Turn!" again

We drove straight past the highway exit which was clearly marked 'Airport Departures'. I mean, "He" drove and I waited until it was too late to say anything.

5. Hey potato ... more walk less talk, OK?

When a Hanoi cab driver is ready to say goodbye, he's ready to say goodbye.

If you are not yet ready to say goodbye, he’s still ready to say goodbye.

Needless to say my driver attempted to dump me at the first available parking spot, as far away from the International check-in as possible. This is an old trick and I was ready for it. I pointed at my final destination with a firm "Di Thang!".

“Di Thang!" buys you about 10 metres at a time. But I persevered:

“Di Thang!" [pause] “Di Thang!" [pause] “Di Thang!" [pause] “Di Thang!"

I was like a new parent, desperately willing his baby to cross the room without taking a break. Or a yokel with a cattle prod in Texas. Or a new parent with a cattle prod in Wyoming.

6. The protracted farewell

I asked for a receipt. He pulled out a fresh book but seemed confused for a while about where to start. He then proceeded, slowly, completing each section (driver’s name, from, to etc). On the last line he wrote the "per km" rate instead of the total amount.

I asked him to please write the full amount in the total. He didn't cross it out. He didn't complain. He just nodded, tore up the receipt and slowly started again on a fresh canvas.

7. Peel the potato

He didn't give me my change. I had to ask for it but this time I don't think it was deliberate. Taxis rarely pull that stunt here and he was friendly. I just think the receipt writing was so overwhelming that it threw him off the rest of his game.

8. Free the spud

By the time I walked away from the cab I felt like Mario in Donkey Kong, climbing ladders and jumping over barrels to get through each stage.