The somewhat flirty receptionist at the Royal Oasis Hotel recommended I fly to Cap-Haitien instead of the eight hour bus ride over unpredictable roads, so the following morning I was driven back across town to the airport to catch a 9:45 flight. Unfortunately, my driver dropped me off at the wrong airport. At first I was quite suspicious when several porters, eager to earn some money refused my bag and promptly told me that I was not in the right place. No one spoke enough English to tell me where the "domestic" airport was, but made it clear I could not walk there in time. I tried to offer my remaining eight dollars for a ride but I had no takers. I did have $100 hidden in my pocket so finally I told one of the guys that I had money to change and I would pay $20 for the ride to the other airport if he could break a hundred. Gladly he accepted. In reality, the other airport was at the end of the runway of the first airport, though I probably could have walked, I might have faded in the Haitian sunshine.

As we pulled into the domestic airport we stopped to change money. I asked for change in U.S. dollars and my driver counted out with the bills, fanning them in front of me, "50, 20, 20, 10, 5, 1111&1". At the bottom of the stack was a thousand Haitian gourde, he told me that was for his friend, and put it into the glove box before handing me my bills. I gave him one $20 in payment and headed toward the airport ticket counter only to realize when paying for my plane ticket I was an additional $20 short. Somehow, through some impressive slight of hand while the driver put the Haitian note in the glove box, I was shorted $20 dollars. This magic show was almost worth it, almost.