This wasn’t the farthest I’ve ever traveled from home. Yet, this story remains etched in my memory. It stands out as one of the most unsettling experiences I’ve had abroad.

Once, during my first visit to Panama City, I was leaving a shopping mall after a long afternoon of purchases. It was late. I didn’t want to wait for the company shuttle to pick me up. So, I decided to take a taxi from the mall’s own taxi service. At the time, Uber wasn’t even a concept yet. The service seemed safe enough—it was provided directly by the mall. I told the driver where I was headed and we agreed on a fare. I was carrying shopping bags and my work backpack. I also had my wallet, laptop, phone, and passport with me. It was the usual gear of a naive tourist navigating a bustling city.

Everything seemed fine at first. The streets didn’t look dangerous. But halfway through the ride, the driver suddenly stopped. He picked up another passenger. That person climbed into the back seat next to me. I was in total shock. I couldn’t speak or ask the driver what was happening, afraid that any protest would worsen the situation. A few minutes later, another person got into the front seat. At that point, I thought, “Well, this is it.”

In my country, when strangers suddenly join you in a taxi, you soon face “express tourism.” You’re about to become a victim. This scam involves the driver, who pretends to be a victim too, driving you around the city. Meanwhile, accomplices empty your bank accounts via ATMs. They also steal everything you have. If you’re lucky, you’re dumped in an unfamiliar neighborhood after a few hours. In worse cases, the ordeal can last for days, with your family being extorted for ransom.

With three strangers now in the car, I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know when the taxi would veer off course and the nightmare would start. Given everything I was carrying, I would’ve been a pretty decent haul. Minutes passed. Nothing happened. I just sat there, resigned to what I thought was inevitable. Eventually, we arrived at the hotel. I paid the driver and didn’t even wait for change. I just wanted to get out and catch my breath.

At the hotel lobby, I drank some water. I asked the receptionist if it was normal in Panama City for taxis to pick up extra passengers mid-ride. He explained that yes, it’s something they call “shared taxi,” an informal practice among locals.

I guess I got lucky that day—or maybe my mother’s countless prayers finally kicked in. Either way, I’ve never taken an informal taxi outside my country again.