I rode the fastest recorded train in the world, from Beijing to Tianjin, this weekend, to finally pack up my old apartment and close the book on that city. As a bonus, Jameson somehow got our Australian friend, Nurse N, to cook us an early Thanksgiving dinner, sans turkey (because who wants to fall asleep in the middle of their cranberry sauce). We did, however, have roast chicken with cherry tomatoes, onions, green peppers and shards of pumpkin; French bread with Greek olives, sun-dried tomatoes doused in feta and cottage cheese, and thick slices of Swiss; homemade toffee and pumpkin pie and chocolate pecan pie a la mode; and of course, wine. Nurse N is an impressive chef. Even more impressive is the fact that Jameson and I managed to gorge ourselves on every morsel amidst his whooping cough/Chinese-hospital-diagnosed pneumonia and my impending doom disease due to an earlier case of Chinese-street-food poisoning. Mmm.

In other news.

Had a good day today. The new team is starting to come together as we prepare for our magazine re-launch in January (more on this later). After four days of impending doom disease, my energy is back and my thinking cap fits again. As I returned from an invigorating session with my personal trainer late this evening, I was greeted by a pair of army green coats and hats bundled around two apathetic faces. These are the same faces I see every morning as I leave my building, and these are the faces that stare blankly at me every time I get home afterhours, because my gate key doesn’t work and the usual in-outflow of traffic is already upstairs in their bunny slippers. And the following is usually what happens when said faces and I interact. Tonight was no different.

“Can you please help me? I can’t get in.”

Hesitation. “We don’t have a card.”

“Well, do you have any way to let me in?”

“I would really like to help you, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You have to have a card.”

“I have one of those round key things that my landlord gave to me, but it doesn’t work.”

Silence.

“Um. Can you help me?”

“We don’t have keys.”

“Well, how am I supposed to get in then?” Mind you, this is all in Chinese.

“You should wait for someone who has a card.”

“But it’s 11:18pm – who is going to come?”

“You should try your key.”

“I did. Many times. It doesn’t work.”

Silence masked by an evasive stare.

“So .  . .  you’re not going to help me?”

“You should get a card.”

Screaming inside. “Can I go through there?” I point to the adjacent car gate with a lock wrapped around it.

Blank stare.

The inside of my head is reverberating in silent screams. Eff usual Polite-Jenny. I’m freezing my cahones off. Stand here or save figurative cahones. Cahones  it is. I quickly maneuver around apathetic guard #2 and shake the lock on the car gate. It slides right off. I slide right in, and even save some face for Polite-Jenny and loop the lock back on. Shivering, I sneak a look back. #2 never even turns his head.

Leave a Reply