The Long Road

I parked my 2004 Hyundai Sonata on ye old street of West Philadelphia to hibernate for the next two weeks. Hopefully, no one would be paying her a visit until I returned. I thought that if I left it on my old street (just a few blocks from the bus station), my old neighbors and friends would see the car and think, "Hey, that's Ralph's old car... Better... Like..not let anyone break into it or something."

Across the street from my 9 o clock bus trip to New York, I met an old college acquantince. We slugged back two Yuenglings, talked about the old college days, and had dinner. The final meal before a full two days of just, straight traveling. First up was the bus ride.

The bus trip, ironically, was set to leave at the exact same time a fantasy football draft was to begin. So I spent the majority of the bus ride, eyes glued to the gleaming screen, sending messages to old work buddies about how stupid it is to draft Odell Beckham in the first round. And in general, making fun of each other the only way that people can after spending far too much time together. Eventually, the bus pulled into the heart of New York City at 1130. Okay, I have 3 hours to get to the airport.

Navigating my way into the smelly caverns of the New York subway system, I felt confident. That diminished immediately. "Heavy" construction was going on (as always) in several of the major tunnels so all of the arteries of the underground were running on the platform I got on. Train D was actually running Train F's route. It became apparent on the first train I got on that I was heading north... Not east. So I got off.

"Do you know where the E train is?" A chubby Latino man with a faded goatee asked me. I looked up to see a sign reading "Train E, this way". So pretending to be the seasoned subway veteran, I said, "Yes, I believe it is this way. Would you happen to know how to get to the airport?"

Enrique guided me through a myriad of stops, detours and questions until I finally got at least a couple blocks from the actual stop to go to the airport. He lived in the Bronx, was taking a train home for 1AM, and then getting up at 5AM to go back to Manhattan for construction work. And he was nothing but kind to me despite running on no sleep and little hope in getting any. We shook hands as I departed and wished each other luck.

Out on the streets, I went the 7 blocks to get to the AirTrain, an Express track straight to the airport... It was nearing 1 o clock. The airport seemed nearly deserted. Inside Terminal 4, I handed my passport to a bleary eyed Asian woman who looked concerned. "Son of a bitch", I thought. "It's almost 1:30 and they gave away my ticket." She looked tiredly at her computer monitor, back at me, back at the computer monitor, shook her head, and then printed my boarding pass.

"Okay, cool." I thought.

Security was empty and I breezed over to Gate 37 all the way in the back of the airport. Hmm, three caucasians also heading to China. Unfortunately, two of them were extremely loud and American and I hated them.

The flight to Cheng Du from New York City was 16 hours long. Everyone on the flight had an entire row to themselves, a literal godsend that I would not truly appreciate until I laid down. As the flight took off, I curled up across the three seats and closed my eyes. When I awoke... I checked the flight time... 4 hours to destination. I had somehow slept 12 hours on a plane... Straight. And there was still time for a film. Ya know, I'd never actually watched Citizen Kane all the way through.

Landing in Cheng Du, I started to get nervous. All the languages, everything was in Chinese. There was no English... Except... "HEY KAREN, TAKE A PICTURE OF ME NEXT TO THIS PANDA SIGN." Ah yes, the hated American couple. A curse be upon them for souring Sino-American relations.

As we walked down a long corridor to go back into the airport, a child of no more than three years old stumbled onto one of those flat escalators that speeds your walk. However, it wasn't moving. The child stepped into it, stopped, and gazed confusedly at the adults. We all laughed. It was one of many moments I've had in the first two days where you don't need to speak the same language. It's just a human thing.

It was 4 o clock in the morning in China, and I had a flight for 1020 to Beijing. Lots of time to kill, I thought. But that time killing became somewhat of an "Oh shit". Firstly, both of my bank cards got denied at the ATM. "Well, that could be terrible", I thought. Secondly, I was realizing that my entire Google-based phone was blocked. Not just Facebook but the Google app store, Google Maps, Gmail, WhatsApp; ie, all communications. "okay, I'm in China with no money and no way of talking to anyone." Hm. And lastly, I could not find my flight.

So, eventually, my PNC card did work. I think I had entered the incorrect PIN the first time. Second, after two hours of just walking around the terminal, I finally asked a woman who spoke no English (no one does) where my flight was. She redirected me to a help desk where it turned out I was in the wrong terminal. "It's 700m that way outside", she pointed in English.

Things didn't get much easier. I spent another hour trying to find where I could get my boarding pass. The dumb American walked up and down the same half a mile of kiosks 3 times before I finally decided to try one of the self check in machines, which I thought were only in Chinese. I got that done and then went through the gigantic line for security. In line at security, an officer came up, tapped me on my shoulder, and said in English, "Sorry, sir, this line for women only." I turned bright red noticing the line of 100 people were all women and the belts that kept us in line were all bright pink. "Sorry," I whispered trying to escape my shame.

Back in line with the fellas, we were whisked through the security screening. Every person before me had their passport checked and then they faced a camera, which matched them for their passport photo.

Now, it should be noted. When I landed in Cheng Du, the picture in my passport from 2010 was so different from what I looked like now, that the guard at immigration literally did not believe that it was me. He called over the supervisor, who looked at my passport, looked at me, and then calmly said, "This, not you." Okay, no. I quickly flipped through the passport to an India photo from two years ago, took off my glasses and gave a great, big smile. This, proved to be enough. But I still walked through the checkpoint feeling as if a Scarlet letter was printed upon my back.

Anyhow, now in Beijing, I got called up to the check in. He looks at my passport, and I look into the camera like everyone else. He tilts the camera down to fit my face upon the frame. I bend my knees slightly. "You're good', and he waves me through.

Checkpoint.

I meander my way to Gate 134 and note to myself that there is not a single soul there. "I'll get food", I think to myself. At the counter, I motion through a handwritten English page that has two categories: Spicy and Non spicy. I take the spicy chicken and noodles. The man at the counter briskly shakes his head. I confidently point again, and say, "Spicy". Would I live to regret this? Possibly.

In the corner of the restaurant, I wait for my food. Meanwhile, I read up upon good Chinese table manners and translations. The food comes... With a set of... Chopsticks. I am now glad that I chose the corner of the room to attempt my ghastly Chinese handcraft. Noodles went flying, chicken was everywhere... But I accomplished the goal of eating without embarrassing myself...kind of. As I read my book, I center upon the words "Thank you" : pronounced "share Shar" and delicious : pronounced "hao chi".

So, apparently I would learn later that a similar sound to thank you in Chinese is "she she". This vaguely translates to something about the toilet... So, I awkwardly gaze at the restaurant attendant and pass by. I turn to the attendant, making brief eye contact and say, "She she, hao chi." The young lad by the wayside snorted with laughter and I ran away to Gate 134. It wasn't until later that I discovered I had said something along the lines of, "The toilet? Delicious." And then went AWOL.

At Gate 134, I noted one other American. He promptly took his shoes off and laid across three seats to take a nap. Seeing no one else in the vicinity, I did the same, with shoes on. Two hours later... Everyone would be waiting for the flight to Beijing.

When I awoke several minutes before boarding, the other American was gone and I was sitting up wiping drool from my face. In someone's conscious... I was also the hated American... I was beginning to understand. We boarded...

The flight to Beijing was two hours, nothing to write home about. I watched "The Phantom Thread", which was a debilitatingly sad film. And then just as the two hours of the film neared its end: we hit turbulence. I am thankful for only experiencing half an hour of this. What sticks out? This.

As the plane lurched and wavered its way to the airport, the baby in the aisle next to me let loose all his inner demons. The only thing worse than dying on an airplane, is having a child narrate the downfall. So I put on, "Can't Stop" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I kid you not, I was ready for the craft to spiral. But as I looked back at that baby... And saw him looking deeply into his father's face, which I might add was also filled with terror. That baby was supremely calm at the worst of it. He had no idea what was going on, even as the woman in front of him vomited into her paper bag. He was at the whim of his caretakers. It wasn't until we landed, that the baby and I bonded. Again, I found myself making faces and causing the baby to laugh as we waited to exit the craft; the parents still grasping the edges of their chairs.

Landing in Beijing. As we exited the craft, I checked the free WiFi, that still offered no help in a world of a Google Phone. The entire damn thing was blocked. So ... I had poorly written directions to my hostel. They read somewhere along the lines of: "Take the shuttle bus from the airport to Dhingzhao. At Dhingzhao, walk 200km to the subwaym. At the subway, take terminal 2 to Qianmen. Leave Qianmen at Exit C and walk until you hit a McDonalds. Make a left at the McDonalds and walk 300km to the Leo Hostel." Easy, right? You've followed me this far...

Downstairs, I navigated my way to the "Shuttle Bus" station. Okay... I reviewed the map and saw that Line 3 took me to the BeiJing Train Station. So for 30 yuan (pronounced U.N.) I purchased a ticket.

Every bus that rolled through was completely in Chinese. So I tried my social skills. I leaned toward the woman next to me and said, "Are you going here too?" She looked at me like I had just farted. Attempting to reconcile my American stupidity, I blubbered on, "Beijing Train Station?" I guess I had farted again.

Two women leaned from around her, "Where are you trying to go?" Jesslyn and Natalie saved me. Jesslyn morese was the angel while Natalie seemed more angry that they had to help a stupid American tourist. Natalie, I feel ya, girl. As they held my hand onto the correct bus, they busted out their cellular WiFi as we cruised through Beijing. 

"Here is the map in English, where are you trying to go?" Jesslyn asked. I was beginning to feel like a burden but Jesslyn almost wouldn't allow me to feel this way. 

"What are you doing tomorrow? You should come with us. What part of the city are you going to? Come with us to the Temple of Heaven." All the while, I'm searching the map of Beijing looking at the countless train stops, all over a city of 27 million people. The magic train stop name in this word search of Chinese jibberish was Qianmen. At the same time, outside the shuttle bus window, the cityscape of Beijing blurred into a haze as I tried to figure what was going on."Okay, Ralph, focus. You can try to navigate your way to the hostel, which based on your history so far... Who the hell are you kidding? You're gonna get lost so get lost..." I settled that I'd get off the train at the Beijing Train Station. Jesslyn and Natalie were getting off at the Dhongmiao stop a little before mine. So, of course, as Jesslyn and Natalie say goodbye (we planned on meeting up later), I look at my map and think, "there's a subway here too... I'll just get off here."As I step off the bus, looking around Beijing and its noise, Jesslyn finally turns around to find me in-toe following closely behind like some befuddled toddler. "NO!" She cries, "WRONG STOP! WRONG STOP!" And catches the attention of the driver, who leaves the bus door open, and looks at me as if to say, "What do you wanna do, coach?" To which, I look back, wave my hands flippantly, give a slight frowny face to downplay any worry and shake my head, accepting my fate. I'm getting lost today.But this would not be allowed. Jesslyn would have no part in it. In Chinese, she started asking people waiting for the bus, where the subway was. One young gentleman, said he was in fact going there. Unfortunately, I believe he thought he would be guiding two lovely Malaysian women through the city's subway. Instead, he got a gangly American with no sense of direction. There was a point where he turned away to head to the subway with Jesslyn behind him and me behind her. Jesslyn turns to me and says, "He's going to the same place, just follow him." To which I thank her profusely. She literally, TOTALLY saved my ass. As she goes to hail a taxi with Natalie, my subway buddy finally turns around and finds that a strange magic trick has occurred in which, two beautiful women were turned into a scraggly, haggard, strange smiling man. He realized he had been cheated. "Oh, you go to subway?" he said smiling, realizing the deal. "Yeah, she was helping me. I'm sorry", I said. "No, no, it okay. Where you from? I'm sorry, my english, only little." Dong Haoran. I even had him write it into my cell phone because my understanding of the language is so poor. Dong was born in the city of Chongqing, and moved to  Beijing for work. Our communication was extremely low level but it is crazy to think how much I learned just from basic words. My connecting flight home is through Chongqing, which I had read about as one of if not thee biggest city in the world.Dong guided me through the underground metro, around corners, past inquiring eyes, and through a long series of twists and turns. "Is this your first week in the city?" He typed into a translating app on his cell phone. I nodded my head, he laughed. Dong's stop was two before mine. I vigorously shook his hand, trying to convey my thanks. He nodded back, all the while both of us smiling. I think, on the quiet subway during rush hour, it was a funny scene. Two men, speaking in their native tongue to each other but recognizing what the other was trying to convey. Dong left. I waited for the light on the map to light up on Qianmen, and when it did, I got off the platform: "at Exit C, turn left up Da Zhang Road, and walked the 300 m to the McDonalds." At the McDonalds,  I made a right hand turn... And got lost. But only for awhile.