I Scrupulously Stare Forward

A crazy queue at 11:30PM Hong Qiao.  This always seems to happen on the last flight down here.  I don’t even bother to try DiDi.  I can only imagine there are no drivers to be had. It’s cold out but its warmer than Beijing.  The cab driver corrects me on my tone when I say Jiu Jiang Lu and speeds off suggesting that it is awfully cold outside.  I let him know I’m coming down from the capital and am not particularly impressed.  “Yes, but our cold is a damp cold.  It is colder.”  The Shanghainese can’t be second best at anything.

We’ve upgraded you to the presidential whateverthefuck suite.  It looks like every other room I’ve ever stayed in here, except the bathroom has a tub off to the side.  Fortunately they have forgotten to provide me with the complementary free brownie the size of a peat turf hunk.  It’s late but all they had on the flight was a wonky shaobing.  I ate it.  I shouldn’t have.  But I have this, ‘it ain’t over yet” feeling.  I consider the all night menu.  I imagine them getting up here in thirty minutes, and feeling stuffed in the morning.  I compromise and yank the Snickers bar they have in the refrigerator out and begin to unwrap it. 

In the morning there is time for the paper, time for the gym, time for some breakfast.  I get a call during breakfast which has hung up by the time my phone is out of my pocket.  “When are you coming?” asks the text.  I wasn’t due for forty-five minutes still.  But the vibe is different now.  I order another double espresso and get to work finishing the odd pile of things on my plate.  The couple I figured was gay to my very immediate left have up and left.  A sixty something Latin gent and a forty something Asian woman have taken their place.  I scrupulously stare forward out at Pudong and try not to conjure their story.

Later, I’m done with my lectures.  I explain to the person I’m talking to that I must meet someone across the street at 4:00PM.  “You’re late” she offers, pointing out that it’s five past.  A good chat then with a smart young man in a complementary industry over at Starbucks.  He spells his Chinese name the way someone from the mainland would, but his accent throws me off till he confirms that he is from Singapore.  He courteously joins me as I go to look for a cab.  We watch a few cabs go by and I decide to order and Didi. This takes a while and I realize that the back of my neck is now very, very cold.  I zip up my coat and remain distracted and cold as we discuss the sagacity of Lee Kwan Yu. 

All the way to the airport, this chill in my neck remains and I worry that I’ll be sick as a result.  I try to ignore it and consider his GPS and my own. 

Saturday, 12/09/17