SIDELINE CUT/Keith Duggan: On reflection, the traffic situation in Athens is not good. At lunchtime yesterday, another broiling, dusty day in the city, it became clear that the Olympic designated bus had abandoned all hopes of collecting its Irish contingent and ferrying us to the airport.

Word came through that the traffic system in Athens was at a standstill. The reason given was that the Turkish Prime Minister, whose arrival on Thursday had caused near meltdown, had moved.

Whether that meant he was being escorted through the city or had merely reached for the soap in the bath was never clarified. And it did not matter. The result was that a group that had arrived in Athens in the grandiose belief that it was an Olympic delegation, international at that, left the city as dusty, roadside rabble. Taxis were not so much hailed as begged for. There are many vivid and moving postures in Athens featuring the great gods of ancient times but none shall ever compare to that of Dessie Cahill on his knees, lost in a cloud of dust and petrol fumes.

There appears to be a general reluctance among the Athenian taxi fraternity to ferry passengers anywhere near the airport. Although a number of drivers stopped, curious to know where such a pale and dishevelled group could be travelling, they all shied away from the suggestion that they spin us to the departure lounge.

"Airport. No, no. Not good." "Because at four I leave for dinner, is no time." The low point was when a half-empty bus with a big, brightly lit aeroplane symbol appeared on the horizon like a mirage. It slowed so its sun-glassed driver could idly inspect us, examine our furious nods of approval and aeroplane imitations before deciding (wisely, it has to be admitted) that on the whole, he would rather drive on.

After little more than 50 phone calls, a local taxi firm agreed that they would send four cars whose drivers were willing to brave the airport.

By this stage, it was 2.15 pm: the flight was due to depart at 3.25 pm and it took roughly an hour to get to the airport. When this predicament was explained to Nikos Ganatsios, our man at the wheel, his eyes lit up.

"It take one hour yes. But for me, dirty - maybe dirty tree minets. But we go different way and go very fast. Agreed?"

On reflection, it is hard to decide on what was the most frightening moment in the journey. It may have been the 10 minutes when we slalomed along the coast road with its panoramic view of the Mediterranean, a view Nikos insisted we enjoyed before remarking, "many cars fall into the sea here. Stupid." It may have been when he careered across two oncoming lanes to take a shortcut through what appeared to be a private farm. But then the moment when he hit the brakes so as  to avoid the truck that stood motionless in front of us, a movement that caused a jeep behind to skid and swerve to avoid slamming into Nikos's rear, as it were, was also a touch breathtaking. It was a life-flash-before-your-eyes moment and one that elevated Nikos's already terrific spirits even further.

"The good news is that yesterday, the car was in for big service," he announced.

He also told us that in 20 years of driving at death-defying speeds, he had never missed an aeroplane. He reminisced about one lily-livered young Englishman who actually fainted in his back seat as Nikos embarked on one of his more outrageous overtaking moves.

Still, the Englishman made his plane. He had to be carried on board but he made his plane.

Later we wondered how he knew that: if his customers actually later wrote or called to thank him for releasing them from Athens and to assure him that they had caught their flight.

That is quite likely because halfway through the journey, you begin to realise that you trust Nikos implicitly. When he hit the open highway, he settled on a steady 180-kilometre speed and sat back in his seat, now talking on the phone, now talking about life and now instructing us to enjoy another spectacular view that vanished in a blur.

"Is beautiful. Yes?" "Yes." During the brief times when we were actually forced to stop - red lights do not hold much influence on the driving habits of Nikos Ganatsios - he became somewhat doleful, sighing and gesturing at the gridlock that surrounded us and impatiently beeping at his fellow motorists. He promised that while the traffic situation in Athens is always terrible, it will be much worse for the Olympic Games.

"All this for the Turkey prime minister," he muttered in disgust.

And he has a point. If one suited politician can cause this kind of mayhem, the consequences of someone like Sean Puffy Combs paying a visit to the Acropolis to check out "my boy Zeus" is unimaginable.

Nikos intends taking holidays during the Olympics, a fact that is frankly very depressing. He did not arrive in the airport in the predicted 33 minutes but in fact screeched to a halt 31 minutes after he picked us up. In 15 seconds, he extracted payment, carried our baggage to the pavement, wished us well in Greek and vanished, though not before presenting his card. It has a digitally enhanced picture of his yellow taxi, his Silver, which has little blurred yellow speed lines trailing behind it. I would frame it were it not my patriotic duty to pass the card onto Eddie Jordan as soon as possible.

As of yesterday, fresh and pessimistic reports about the Olympian transport situation were beginning to circulate.

Rumours of abandoned tram lines, of three-hour journeys up to the rowing centre, of taxi strikes, of general anarchy are commonplace.

Ask any Greek about the truth behind them and they will just shrug as if the Athens transport network is a favourite child that has broken their hearts. Nikos exhibited the same sad, philosophical expression when asked if he felt the Games would be a success.

"We hope. Because for us it is very expensive. Yes. I believe it will be ready but maybe not until the day before."

If I had my way, Nikos would be put in charge of transport for the duration of the Athens games and perhaps permanently. More than that, he would be paid vast sums of money - a million would be a drop in the ocean for a committee now a billion over budget - to hurry the lacklustre efforts to close the roof on the stadium. If he is to continue his excellent and efficient work as a taxi driver, then all future customers are well advised to down two swift brandies before travelling in his company.

In a way, Nikos tells you everything you need to know about the Athens games.

There is genius there and it is of an unorthodox nature. The conventional route is spurned for a wilder, scarier path.

There is much shouting and laughing and scowling. But after everything, the job is done on time.