The last time I saw Mike
Note to those who might be especially startled by the title of this entry: I received an email from Mike late this morning notifying me that he was well and enjoying a cup of tea in the Beijing airport's SUNBIRD DIGITAL RELAXATION CENTER.
This morning, around 5am, I walked with Mike out to the front gate of my "gated community". As we turned the corner, we saw that the entry and exit gates (not really gates; they're those thin, wooden boards that lift up and down and a quick search on Google images calls them parking gates) were in the upright position and that the guard was asleep in his lighted booth, his head resting on his crossed arms, which were resting on the desk in front of him. As we walked through the exit gate and peered into his booth, Mike's roller bag heralding our departure, the guard didn't move a muscle. I decided that the gates were up so that he wouldn't be bothered from his slumber.
I'm glad that Mike arrived at the airport and that he's now on a plane back to Seattle because our interactions with the cab drivers that we met at that hour were none too positive. I have been back and forth to the airport via taxi at least seven times now and each time, it hasn't cost more than 100 kuai. This morning, I hailed the first taxi and he scratched his head, repeating "airport, airport" several times until Mike said, "Um, no." The second driver who stopped took one look at us and also repeated "airport" after I asked if he'd go there. He sort of half-nodded and then I went to the trunk to start helping put Mike's luggage in. Mike heard the driver mumble and then he got out of the car and joined us at the trunk. He didn't help with the luggage but pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number slowly, methodically and ignored my repeated question of "Can you go to the airport?" - I suppose I should have said, "WILL you go to the airport?"
When the receiver picked up on the other end of his call, the driver clucked that some Lao-wai were asking for a ride to the airport. He seemed incredulous and Mike and I stared at each other impotently. Another taxi drove up and the driver, now off of the phone asked me what I'd be willing to pay for the ride. I told him 100 kuai and he balked. So I said, "Okay then, how much?" And he replied without missing a beat, "150". The driver of the other taxi discussed this amount with our driver for a moment and then pulled away. I didn't see an alternative since messing with getting to the airport isn't something I enjoy doing.
Now that I've had more sleep and some time to shake the "huh?" feeling of 5am, I suppose I could have said, "Nope", called the driver's bluff and hailed another taxi if he decided to drive off. What actually happened was I asked Mike if he had 150 on him and then told the driver "okay". I was concerned he wasn't going to take Mike where he really needed to go so I told the driver that Mike didn't speak Chinese (as if I do...) and the driver got all huffy, concerned that once they DID arrive at the airport, he wouldn't get his money because Mike doesn't speak Chinese. This seemed unnecessary, but after Mike showed the money he had, the driver was satisfied. And then, Mike was carted away. I walked back to my apartment, furious at my inability to bargain coherently and worried that Mike would end up climbing over the fence and banging on my door thirty minutes later after having been dropped off ten blocks away and his luggage stolen. But, as it WAS 5:30am and I HAD gone to bed around 2:00am, I was soon sound asleep and thankful that there was no knocking at my door.
I did send an email into the void, asking for confirmation of his arrival at ANY airport and that's when I received the message from the digital relaxation compound. I do believe he's on a flight home as I write this. We had an amazing little adventure - full of planes, trains and automobiles. We even sandwiched the trip with massages from my local parlor. A lady cracked my neck left and right last night and destroyed any last wavering possibility that I'll ever visit a chiropractor. It's just not RIGHT!
This morning, around 5am, I walked with Mike out to the front gate of my "gated community". As we turned the corner, we saw that the entry and exit gates (not really gates; they're those thin, wooden boards that lift up and down and a quick search on Google images calls them parking gates) were in the upright position and that the guard was asleep in his lighted booth, his head resting on his crossed arms, which were resting on the desk in front of him. As we walked through the exit gate and peered into his booth, Mike's roller bag heralding our departure, the guard didn't move a muscle. I decided that the gates were up so that he wouldn't be bothered from his slumber.
I'm glad that Mike arrived at the airport and that he's now on a plane back to Seattle because our interactions with the cab drivers that we met at that hour were none too positive. I have been back and forth to the airport via taxi at least seven times now and each time, it hasn't cost more than 100 kuai. This morning, I hailed the first taxi and he scratched his head, repeating "airport, airport" several times until Mike said, "Um, no." The second driver who stopped took one look at us and also repeated "airport" after I asked if he'd go there. He sort of half-nodded and then I went to the trunk to start helping put Mike's luggage in. Mike heard the driver mumble and then he got out of the car and joined us at the trunk. He didn't help with the luggage but pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number slowly, methodically and ignored my repeated question of "Can you go to the airport?" - I suppose I should have said, "WILL you go to the airport?"
When the receiver picked up on the other end of his call, the driver clucked that some Lao-wai were asking for a ride to the airport. He seemed incredulous and Mike and I stared at each other impotently. Another taxi drove up and the driver, now off of the phone asked me what I'd be willing to pay for the ride. I told him 100 kuai and he balked. So I said, "Okay then, how much?" And he replied without missing a beat, "150". The driver of the other taxi discussed this amount with our driver for a moment and then pulled away. I didn't see an alternative since messing with getting to the airport isn't something I enjoy doing.
Now that I've had more sleep and some time to shake the "huh?" feeling of 5am, I suppose I could have said, "Nope", called the driver's bluff and hailed another taxi if he decided to drive off. What actually happened was I asked Mike if he had 150 on him and then told the driver "okay". I was concerned he wasn't going to take Mike where he really needed to go so I told the driver that Mike didn't speak Chinese (as if I do...) and the driver got all huffy, concerned that once they DID arrive at the airport, he wouldn't get his money because Mike doesn't speak Chinese. This seemed unnecessary, but after Mike showed the money he had, the driver was satisfied. And then, Mike was carted away. I walked back to my apartment, furious at my inability to bargain coherently and worried that Mike would end up climbing over the fence and banging on my door thirty minutes later after having been dropped off ten blocks away and his luggage stolen. But, as it WAS 5:30am and I HAD gone to bed around 2:00am, I was soon sound asleep and thankful that there was no knocking at my door.
I did send an email into the void, asking for confirmation of his arrival at ANY airport and that's when I received the message from the digital relaxation compound. I do believe he's on a flight home as I write this. We had an amazing little adventure - full of planes, trains and automobiles. We even sandwiched the trip with massages from my local parlor. A lady cracked my neck left and right last night and destroyed any last wavering possibility that I'll ever visit a chiropractor. It's just not RIGHT!
