The Day My Job Almost Killed Me

Today, World Mango Day, makes me pause. To most, a mango is simply a delicious fruit, maybe a bit on the exotic side. To me, the mango is a symbol of a pivotal moment in my career. I call it my Mango Moment. 

My husband and I had taken a two-week vacation in Belize. One week was sleep-on-straw-mat ecotourism with a guide. One week was spoil-me-rotten spa. 

On our last night, the rain was epic. Flash-flooding buried the nearby airstrip and canceled the commuter flight. The only way to catch our international flight home the next day was to drive several hours to Belize City at dawn. We’d been out for two weeks. We were running big projects. We had to get back for work!

So, super early Sunday, we packed our remaining mangos for a snack and started driving the unpaved roads back to Belize City. We were the only car on the road. We went through and around puddles. Most puddles just splashed mud. Then we came upon a puddle that was more like a lake, a large area of road engulfed with rain that couldn’t drain. For some reason—we both don’t understand and shudder to recall— we kept driving. Into the lake. We began driving down into the water, not through the water. Halfway into the lake in the middle of the road, we notice we’re now on a bridge over a swelling creek, and the water is now up over the hood of the car. And it’s barely daylight.

“Oh $#!*!” 

There was no choice but to keep going as far as the submerged engine would take us. We rolled down the windows in case we’d need to bail. I zipped our passports in my pocket in case someone needed to identify our bodies. A large transport truck was coming towards us with weak headlights. The red truck was rusted and beaten up. Workers sat high atop the bed of the truck on heaps of some produce we couldn’t make out. They stood up waving arms urgently. Their body language was screaming, “Stop where you are, crazy tourists, you’re gonna drown!”

In what was probably five minutes but felt like five hours, we somehow made it over the flooded bridge. The men atop the truck were cheering in amazement (and I am sure they are still talking about those stupid tourists).

Once out of danger, I took a mango out of my bag. No napkin. No knife. No talking. I nervously started eating it. My hands were shaking. Juice dripped everywhere on me and the passenger seat. I remember that mango had the perfect ripeness. The sweet taste of cheating a dramatic rescue and maybe even death.

The Ford got us back to the international airport. We scurried to the terminal before questions could be asked about the car. We reported to work 8am that Monday. All as planned.

The only reason we got in that rental car after a flash flood and risked our lives, literally, was because we felt we had to get back to work. Seriously?! Of course, when we got back to work, everything was running just fine without us—as any well-run team should. We were valued, but we were not indispensible.

If you, too, have had a Mango Moment, share with others how that helped you gain new perspective. And if you haven’t had a Mango Moment, don’t.