Last night in Shanghai
Monica’s birthday. Go to Yuan-yuan one last time. Sandy, Rachel, Vicky, Vicky’s sister and nephew, Lu-lu, Monica’s private lesson teacher, Tim, Jerune, Oliver, Monica and I were around the table. A lot of delicious food was ordered and consumed. Monica brought two bottles of rum, the ladies of Mandarin House brought a huge cake and we had a lot of fun until it was time to pay the bill. We had stayed two hours past closing time and I went out to ask Lawson how much we owed. He said 150 kuai, which was insane – that means each of us would have enjoyed the evening for an equivalent of $1.70 US. I kept making him bump it up and finally I went into the group with 500 kuai – not an outrageous number for what we’d eaten and the hospitality Lawson showed. Immediately the women start bickering about how 500 is too much and one of them goes out and argues that Lawson’s trying to rip us off. This made Lawson extremely mad because he was being made to look bad when he had offered such a generous price to begin with. I told the women to pay what they wanted – about 20 kuai each and then Jerune, Tim, Oliver and I paid the extra because we felt terrible for Lawson. It was, yet again, an extremely uncomfortable communication misunderstanding, and this time, I caused it. I vow to try hard not to interfere in such things again unless I know how to smooth over any misunderstandings in Chinese.
We headed to club Wynn-Win where we were met by all of Monica’s male admirers. There were the two Japanese from the boat party, William from Ghana who we met at Big Bamboo, and a Filipino and Brazilian from Zapata’s. All wanted to get closer to Monica but she was like a butterfly that night and we were having too much fun to worry about the men lurking in the corners. We couldn’t get a table at Wynn-Win so we took two taxis to Fuxing Park and went to Park 97. Perfect timing to get two more bars in before leaving SH. All I know about the rest of the night is that Jerune, William and I sat up by the only pool table in the place and watched some amazing games unfold. Monica would come up every once and a while to tell me who had made out with who, who was dancing naughtily with whom, etc. I didn’t go down to the dance floor once. It was amazing. These really good pool players were beating each other back and forth on the table. I signed up and had to wait two hours to play. It was delightful entertainment though. I’ve never been around people who play so well. I lost my first game terribly, but at the end of the night, William, Jerune, an older Chinese man, a young Chinese hair stylist and myself were the only ones standing. I played the older Chinese man and something must have been soaking, via osmosis, into my system because I almost won. And this guy was really, really good. After my near-victory, my friends and I walked down to look for Mon. It was 4am and the bar was closing. I hadn’t gotten too tired yet but I had a terrible headache and was in need of some water.
I found Monica making out with her Colombian friend from yet another bar. She kept looking at me pleadingly and I went into mother mode and told her AND him it was time to go. He got very moody and walked out without saying goodbye. Later, I found out he is 27. He acts like a child. When Mon and I walked out she didn’t know what she wanted to do, and I didn’t care, so when the Colombian’s little friend – Halid (?) – from Morocco started dancing and singing about hamburgers, we got into taxis and went to there two-bedroom LUXURY flat. Three bathrooms this place had, in a city like SH. By the end of the morning when it was time for us to go, the Moroccan was cursing his fate that we had to meet the day I was leaving SH. He was hilarious. He asked me to quit my plans and stay with him and his immature Colombian roommate. He offered me his room and told me he’d sleep on the balcony with the grill since that’s where he spends most of his time anyway.
We spent the next two hours watching the sunrise and laughing in between SNL skits on television (they had cable) and online videos making fun of President Bush. The Colombian all the while was trying to get Monica alone, but I wouldn’t have it. She was tired and excited and not thinking clearly. She knew I’d keep her in check so she flirted a little too much with the Colombian which confused him to no end.
My headache began to increase exponentially and I was starting to tire of the Moroccan’s over-the-top lamentations, so we left. The sun was shining and Mon and I were in our party clothes from the night before. We made it back to Mon’s apt. where I started to feel really, really ill. By the time I had washed my eye makeup off from the night before and had changed into some traveling clothes, Mon was passed out in a chair, in her pajamas, pen in hand, in the middle of writing “Train Station” in pinyin.
It was a magnificent night and I wish I had a photo of her like that to complete the evening.
I’ve got everything with me from my stay in SH. I have my big pack – so packed to the gills that I have a difficult time hefting it up onto my back. I have a smaller shoulder bag also so packed that it is an awkward puffed out rectangular object that is bulky and difficult to manage. Then, I’ve got an irregularly shaped small pack that I’ve used every day since arriving in China, but which is very inefficient, to me, mainly because my computer pokes awkwardly out from this bag and its shape is too small for even a regular notebook.
I made my way to the train station and managed to hoist all of this luggage by myself up to the waiting area, with sunglasses, too queasy for water and a throbbing headache. I sat in the closest available seat and waited somewhat impatiently for the call to board the train.
