There were 3 Factors that allowed this story to become a possibility. I’d like to recognize them first before I share my story.

Factor 1. As the budget traveler that I am, I had scheduled in perfect layers each leg of my trip to/from Cuba. In other words? If I missed one leg, I miss the rest.

Factor 2. There are no ATMs for American citizens in Cuba.

Factor 3. Because of Factor #2, I had budgeted my last 50 CUCs (Cuba’s currency for foreigners) to the TEETH the last 48 hours I was in Cuba.

And now, my story.

It was supposed to be a smooth agenda coming back home. I had gone through Customs multiple times in multiple countries and I was confident that today’s visit wasn’t going to be any different.

3:15pm – I’m inside a slightly crammed booth looking awkwardly back at the camera as they snapped a photo of me. My 6′ 1″ frame towered above the desk, anxiously waiting for Cuban Official Lady #1 to buzz the door and allow me to be on my way. Cuban Official Lady #1 looked over my boarding pass again and swiveled her chair around to speak with Cuban Official Lady #2 & #3.

My toe tapped a bit quicker as I tried my best to interpret their rapid, gunfire Spanish. I understood nothing.

The chatter stopped and Cuban Official Lady #1 peeked up from her desk and handed back my boarding pass…and slowly spoke two words, (this time in English).

“Airport Tax.” 

I quickly responded, “Airport Tax? No no, I already paid that when I flew into Cuba!”

Hopelessly, I waited for an assuring reaction but all I got was a finger wag.

“No, you pay airport tax. No airport tax, no leave.” 

My flight was departing at 4:00pm, and I was in trouble.

3:20pm: I frantically walked back out into the airport lobby and began accessing my options. This did not take long as my options were limited. Find some money or face being stuck in the airport for a night(s).

But how was I going to find money?

I did a quick 360 degree scan for anything/anyone that might get me a step closer towards my new goal.

Ah, over there! There were two Caucasians, one dressed in a vivid pink shirt and the other in a forest green polo speaking with an attendant from Cayman Airways. “They are going to be my ticket out,” I thought to myself.

I casually strolled a bit closer to them and left about 100 feet between us so I wouldn’t completely surprise them when they turned around. My toe tapped a bit quicker.

3:25pm: After what seemed like an eternity of talking, Pink Shirt and Green Polo finally began walking towards me. I did my best, Let’s-Be-Friends-Smile and explained to them my situation.

I need money, we’re both flying to the Cayman Islands, I swear I’ll pay you back, I need money, now, help, please.

Pink Shirt smiled back and in very broken English (but excellent body language!) responded, “Eh..no money. See? Only 5.”

I needed $29.

3:27pm: I quickly thanked them (not sure why) and began scheming for alternative plans. There, in the corner of the terminal was an ATM. It was almost as if the ATM in its grey, lifeless form was devilishly teasing me to try. In a true act of desperation, I ran over to the ATM and prayed for a miracle.

My Barclays Mastercard Arrival Card went in and came straight back out. Declined.

Next, the Citi Thank You Premiere Card. It had a international chip, that might do the trick! Declined.

And finally, my Chase Debit Card. Declined.

No miracle today. 30min left.

3:30pm – I bolted for the nearest exit and began doing a quick scan outside for other potential kind foreigners. My heart was racing just a bit quicker now and I began to feel tiny beads of sweat congregating together on the top of my forehead.

I wondered, Is this due to the typical Caribbean humid, hot weather or the culmination of the stress that was washing over me? In any case, it was getting a bit frigid inside the airport anyways.

As I stood outside the airport, I was surprisingly very mindful on how my body and my mind was reacting to this frenzied situation.

There were 3 things I noticed right then and there.

1. Everything had accelerated. My body, my mind, my emotions. Adrenaline, the natural RedBull was kicking in full effect.

2. I thought of and recognized what the worst case scenario was going to be. This helped to some degree as it helped filter out useful, positive thoughts from the nonessential ones.

3. I made a decision to take control. When we’re in a panicky, desperate situation, we’re given three options. We can fight, run away, or just stand there and do nothing. I chose to fight. By accepting this mental decision, it gave my body permission to react likewise.

It was crazy how quickly my neurons were connecting with each other every mili-second that passed. Luckily, one of those connections led to an observation, then a thought, an idea…and finally, ACTION.

I needed to sell something. 

Another quick scan. This time, on myself. I needed to sell something that was both enticing (speed) and expensive (price of Airpot Tax) enough in the manner of 10 minutes.

Hat?, no. Watch?, no. Camera?, hell no. Tour book?, no.

What about my Kindle? 

Yes, YES! That’ll do.

I ran to a curb, ripped out a sheet of paper from my journal, whipped out my Nexus 5 and opened the Google Translate app and scribbled out a Sales Pitch (a terrible one at best):

 

3:33pm – Armed with an offer and a sprinkle of cautious hope, I began flashing the sign (albeit a bit rudely) in front of peoples’ faces. After two rejections, I hear a high trilled whistle from behind me. I see an old, white haired cab driver standing a few feet away from me waving for me to come over. (We’ll call him Joe). I happily oblige.

At the same time, I also hear my name on the loudspeakers. **spanishspanishspanish AL-BERT LI-AO spanishspanishspanish**

Time was running out.

3:36pm – I look at Joe and hand him the Kindle to examine. I made sure I was standing close enough so that I could grab him by the collar in case he had any ideas on running away with my prized possession.

“45.”  – Joe offers.

“Si! Ok! *Thumbs Up*”– I exclaim back to him.

Joe scrutinizes the Kindle for a few seconds longer and looks at me again. His hand motions for me to walk over to a taxi parked alongside the road. I follow.

Peering outside the taxi is another Cab Driver. Chubbier, similar in age but with a bit more hair. Let’s call him John.

With Sherlock Holme-like investigation, Joe and John began touching, weighing, and triple checking the product in question. They discuss with turtle worthy pace and finally came to an agreement.

3:46pm – I hear my name again. **AL-BERT LI-AO. AL-BERT LI-AO.” Final call.

John in the tinniest of hesitancy pulls out his dark brown leather wallet and looks squarely into my eyes and asks,

“US dollars Ok?” 

“YES! SI! PERFECTO!”  I emphatically answered back. Just give me the money already!!!!

John, obviously un-empathetic to my situation, slowly shuffles around his wallet to find the necessary two 20’s and 5 to complete our transaction.

And there it was. Beautiful in all its Green and Rectangle form was my ticket outta here. I handed them the Kindle, grabbed the cash, shook their hands, told them probably 50 gracias and ran back inside the airport.

3:50-4:00pm – The next 10 minutes was a blur. I ran to the Airport Tax booth where it was empty, barren, and alone. You’ve got be kidding me. Thankfully, right before I ran to the mean looking Policeman for help, Cuban Official Lady #4 entered the booth.

Money exchanged, boarding pass STAMPED, I ran back into the customs booth where I greeted Cuban Official Ladies #1-3 again. They seemed pleasantly surprised I was back so soon and proceeded to check my documents once more.

This time, the door buzzed opened and I ran to Gate 3, boarding pass and passport in hand.

A bit out of breath, I hand over the documents to the flight attendant.

“Hi, I’m here for the flight back to Cayman Islands.” 

“Albert Liao?”

“Yes.”

“Welcome Aboard.”

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If you liked this post, check out my other post here on my trip to Cuba. It’s filled with insights, perspectives, and a few cool pictures. 🙂