Chinese Fugitive

This was my last weekend squatting at a friend’s apartment in Xiaoshan. This morning, before I left to make the drive back to BinJiang, I had to turn in the key and electricity card to the property manager. I went down to the lobby with my trusty electronic translator and asked the woman at the front desk where to go. She escorted me around the building to a customer service center.

They wouldn’t let me turn in the key until they shut off the water. So one of the guys at the water company followed me back up to the apartment to shut the water off, but was flummoxed when the toilet kept running. It does that sometimes. You just have to take the backing off and push the lever down manually. No biggy. Of course, I couldn’t tell that to him. He was too impatient and kept trying to flush the damn thing repeatedly before the water even had a chance to rise.

While he kept fiddling with the toilet, I looked at the time and realized I needed to get back to BinJiang if I was going to have time to shower and lunch before teaching. I told him I needed to leave, that he should hurry. “Kuai yi dian.” But he was adamant about getting the toilet to stop running.

I figured I would be waiting half the day if I stayed; so, while his back was turned, I left the key in the door and gave him the slip. I didn’t take the elevator, since that’s where he would probably come looking for me when he realized I wasn’t there. Instead, I hid in the stairwell for a moment and snuck out via the fire escape on the side of the building. This way, if he called his buddies downstairs, they wouldn’t see me come down through the lobby. I ducked behind cars in the parking lot until I found my bike and then scooted the hell out of there.

They have no contact information for my friend, or me; however, they now have the keys and the security deposit. I figure we’re square. I had to laugh to myself as I drove away, because I felt like a fugitive. I half expected to see someone in my mirrors, running after me.

But that wasn’t the end of my morning. No, sir. I probably shouldn’t write about this, since I know my mother occasionally reads my blog and if she knows what happened today she might have a heart attack. You know how mothers can be.

Halfway to BinJiang I was hit by a car – again. I had a green light and some idiot ran the red. He was turning the corner and I was going straight. He didn't look. I can only go 40 kph on my bike, so it was more irritating than harmful. I thought for a second my bike was broken because it skidded halfway under his van. Luckily, I actually saw that it was going to happen, so I veered the bike sideways so that it wouldn't be a head-on crash.

My day felt like a regular Harrison Ford movie. At least he apologized, since he knew it was his fault. I picked up my bags that had sprawled across the road, brushed myself off, and kept driving. What else do you do?