Evening Than Was Wise

Thursday.  Today is Thursday, right?  I’m sailing across parts of southern Jiangsu I’ve never seen before en route to the Wuxi airport, which I’ve never had the pleasure of traveling from.  I haven’t much time.  I think they’ll close the gate on check-in in ten minutes or so.   The driver is reasonably aggressive but I cringe every time a car sales by us. 

My friend who hosted me in Kunshan wanted to show me the town when my lecture was over.  The dinner conversation with other members of the university waxed naturally, wonderfully from the lecture topic.  Of course I’d like to go see Kunshan Pinoy Rock.  There’s a local rock scene too?  Let’s check em’ out.  One more spot?  Well, as long as you’ve got Elliot Smith cranking all the way in the car, how could I say “no.”  The descent to oblivion was rather later in the evening than was wise and this morning’s ascent has been notably encumbered.

Outside is overcast but strikingly pleasant.  The Southern Jiangsu Highway Beautification Department or whatever they’re called, get high marks in my book.   The southerners know how to use water when they build things.  Look at that somber white building next to the canal set back from the road.  See how they’ve planted different trees at random so they appear to be wild.  I try to take my mind off the time.  We’ll either make it or . . .

Fortunately we beat the GPS estimate.  The lady checked me in without any issue and I headed over to security straight away. The Wuxi International Airport is modern, if modest.  I sauntered up to the first class line with my economy ticket expecting to have to point out that my flight was about to board, but the gent didn’t blink.  Before me was a middle aged woman with a small child.  The lady was yelling a lot.  Yelling at her phone, yelling at the staff and yelling at her little treasure.  There was not anger in any of this yelling.  She just seemed to think that this was the precise volume at which to communicate with the world. 

The young lady at the Costa Cafe kept responding to me in broken English.  I was willing to work with this until it became clear that she had overlooked the basics my order for a coffee.  She handed me a wrap and looked at me funny.  I told her, hung over still, certainly, with my northern accent: “Listen, if you don’t understand something, you should ask.”  Yeah.  I’m not sure I even want any coffee.  I’d be better off reclining the seat and sleeping for the next few hours.

Thursday 12/07/17