Crazy Uber Stories: The Guatemalan Miscommunication

Sylvio had hear a lot of crazy stories behind the wheel while driving Uber. But this retired pilot told him a doozy. Sylvio picked him up at an event center where his grandniece held her wedding dinner. I asked him if anything memorable happened during his flying days. He unwound this tale about landing a private plane in the US after departing Central America one summer day:

I was piloting a Cessna for a private client. We were coming back from a run down to Guatemala for a business trip. After landing, I did a quick walk-around inspection of the aircraft to make sure there was no damage. Satisfied, I turned to help unload supplies from the cargo hold. That’s when I spotted the convoy of black SUVs speeding across the tarmac toward my plane.

I counted five vehicles loaded with armed men in dark suits and sunglasses. Feds. Something’s not right. My mind raced through possible scenarios – missed paperwork, issues with cargo manifests. But I knew those were just excuses they would use if this went bad. And it looked like it might.

The SUVs skidded to a halt in a semi-circle around the Cessna, agents pouring out, training their weapons on me and my crew.

“Hands in the air! Now!” an agent barked, advancing toward me.

I complied slowly. “Whoa, take it easy,” I said, hands up. “What’s this all about?”

The agent ignored me, kicking my legs apart to pat me down while another agent kept a rifle aimed at my chest. They seemed to be looking for something specific. But what?

“On your knees! Hands behind your head!” the lead agent shouted once they’d finished searching us.

We reluctantly complied. “Come on, you gotta tell us what this is about,” I pleaded, but was met with silence.

The agents formed a perimeter around the plane, weapons still aimed steadily at us. I noticed one agent whisper something to the leader while pointing at the cargo hold.

The lead agent nodded and turned to me. “We know what you’re planning,” he said coldly. “There’s enough Semtex in that cargo hold to level a city block.”

What? That’s insane, we would never…”

But before I could finish, the agent cut me off. “Save it. We have credible intel you intend to detonate it today. Right here.”

None of this made sense. But clearly these agents believed it. And that meant things were about to go from bad to worse.

Glancing around, I quickly took stock of my options. The plane’s radio was too far away to reach. Trying to run or resist would surely get me and my crew killed.

No, my only hope was to try and talk them down. Make them understand this was all a huge mistake. Easier said than done, with a dozen assault rifles pointed at my chest.

“Listen to me. I don’t know who told you we have explosives, but they’re wrong. Dead wrong.” I made sure to make eye contact with the lead agent as I spoke. “Check the cargo hold. You won’t find anything but spare parts and tools. I swear on my life.”

“Don’t try anything stupid. We’re taking you in, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere until you confirm there are no explosives. I won’t have my crew arrested for something we didn’t do.”

The agent kept his rifle trained on me. His finger rested lightly near the trigger

Finally, the lead agent lowered his weapon just a fraction. “Jones, go check the cargo,” he ordered one of his men.

The agent called Jones looked uncertain. “But sir, they could be rigged to blow.”

“We have to know what we’re dealing with here,” the lead agent insisted. “These men may not be who we think they are.”

Jones nodded reluctantly and approached the plane, weapon still ready. I watched him disappear into the hold.

After a few minutes, Jones emerged shaking his head. “It’s clean in there, sir. Just like he said.”

The lead agent unclipped his radio and gave the order to stand down. The assault team lowered their weapons.

Crisis averted.

I slowly lowered my hands. That had been too close. If the agent hadn’t checked the cargo, there’s no telling how much blood would have been shed over this terrible misunderstanding.

I took a cautious step toward the lead agent. “I tried to radio our flight plan when we landed,” I explained. “But I guess with all the…commotion, the radio got damaged.”

The agent nodded, looking embarrassed. “We received faulty intel you were smuggling explosives. I take full responsibility for not attempting to make contact first.”

“Just doing your job,” I said. “No hard feelings.”

I extended my hand. After a moment, the agent shook it.

Around us, the rest of the agents lowered their weapons and began tending to their injured comrade. My crew and I breathed sighs of relief, grateful the standoff was over.

I made a mental note to double-check our flight plans were properly filed from now on. I didn’t want to cut it this close ever again.