An act of impropriety

I was hot and tired and worried about time in Qingdao when I was heading back to Hangzhou for one more night before flying back to Hong Kong on the way to the U.S. I didn't know why the taxi to the airport was taking so long. I couldn't understand what he was saying, and I hoped that I would not have to visit an ATM again. I spent more than I meant to, about 300$ more. Thankfully yesterday I got my tax rebate (with other assorted bills and unpleasant things in the accumulated month of mail at home) so I can blow it on an XBOX 360 and not worry about spending too much in China. Back at the airport I was distressed. I didn't know which counter to go to, I didn't understand why the guy at the door to the airport, not the security line but the door to the outside world, was screening my bag. My whole state of mind was bad. After sorting it all through, with much anguish, I finally approached the almost nonexistant security line, confident that my trials were about 99% finished, and this would be a formality.

A quiet man approached me, smiling, and launched into a Chinese explanation, with much pointing at signs and then at my bag and then back at the ticket counter. I knew immediately that he wanted me to check one of my bags, and this airport, for some reason, would only let you carry on one bag no matter what airline you were on, but as I stood there, exhausted, nerve wrought, I realized that I had to figure something out. To play for time I did what I do best: played dumb. I made him explain it about 3 times. He spoke no English and I pretended, if it is possible to believe this, that my Chinese was worse than it actually was so he would keep explaining. I would like to say that I came up with something that got me through, I didn't. A woman came up who spoke English. Before she started talking the man explained to her the situation, in Chinese, and he said my Chinese is terrible, which is true, unfortunately. However, I did understand it when he said it was terrible, so I guess that sort of evens things out, perhaps it doesn't.

The woman started speaking to me and said that she could speak to her manager. Perhaps I had something valuable in the bag? I blinked, realized there was some light she was letting into the situation and said yes, I do have expensive things in there. I suspose there actually were valuable things in my bag, cameras, and a few pearls for my mom and sister, but the real reason I wanted to hold onto my bag, and carry it on the plane myself was that I was tired. My bag was in my hand and I did not want anyone taking it from me. Maybe if I had been better rested, or hadn't wasted so much money on junk that I didn't need, or if the taxi ride hadn't lasted so long, maybe I would have complied and walked back to the ticket counter. Strike a blow against the old ugly American stereotype and play by the rules. But she was giving me a way out. Yes, there were valuable things in there. She said that if I were a VIP I could go through. Was I a student at Qinghua University (arguably the best or the second best university in China). Another flash of light, this time it was blinding, and I couldn't see that it illuminated a path I perhaps should not have walked down. No, I was not a Qinghua student, but I go to Yale. It was a magic word. Her face lit up. Well then, of course you are a VIP. Do not worry about checking your bag, follow me, this will be no problem. Do not tell the other passengers. They might get angry.

I don't know what this makes me, but this was a shameless exploitation of a name to get an unfair benefit.