When did Furby get maimed? I have no idea. Maybe a week or so ago? All I know is this walking thing is getting old. I’m racking up like 40+ minutes of walking a day, and how far does that get me? Not very far. Probably like a 1 km radius from home base, so nothing thrilling (mostly just school and the supermarket); hardly worth the time and energy, I tell you. Sure, walking gets the circulation going and I burn a few extra calories, but geez, if I keep this up much longer, another pair of shoes may be in order. Of course, sneakers remain the ultimate choice for walking, but when you have to take style into account also (which now I do…what a bitch, eh?), the New Balances can really drag the look down. According to Pamela and Susie (my second fashion advisor), every woman needs to have a pair of casual non-athletic shoes: something you can wear with the hipster jeans yet still walk around in comfortably. Sigh. Sorry, but the sneaks will just have to do for now. This looking good crap is too much damn work. I mean, after all those trips with Pamela and Susie, I thought I was set for life. Nope, now I just find myself wearing the same new stuff cycled back to back. I think that means I need more shit, right??! Dreadful.

Whatev. I have more pressing matters. For example, I’m still searching for that ever elusive e-bike battery. I have now tried three different hypermarts, all of which sell e-bikes. NONE of them sell the battery separately. The sales people keep telling me I have to get a battery at an e-bike store, but jesus, where the hell are those? On my walks, I’ve passed a few more bike repair holes-in-the-wall (or is it hole-in-the-walls?). Now it seems a replacement will set me back 500 RMB (~$60) instead of the previously quoted 300 RMB, because in addition to the juice cells, I also have to repurchase the battery housing, which includes the plug socket. Every day I curse the thief who paralyzed my precious Furby.

I’m holding out though. I want to buy the battery from a legit shop. The street vendor says the repair will take three hours, and I don’t trust him enough to let him work on my bike without supervision. So, I have to find an e-bike specialty store on ZhongShan Nan Er Lu. I’m guessing I’ll have to enlist the help of a local friend.

I’ve been walking my ass off these days, because last week (after one of my shopping excursions with Pamela), I went out to find someone had swiped the battery to my e-bike! Man, I was so pissed. I mean, here I was having a good day, finally figuring out this body type classification system and these goddamn fuckers ran off with my 50-lb battery! What the hell? XJH recently adopted this new policy offering free bike parking. Well, a lot of good free parking does me. I’d rather fork over the 5 mao (6 cents). I gotta have people watching my stuff, you know? Was there a lock, you ask? Yes, there was but just so happens, my battery lock had a tendency to get jammed. Some days, I couldn’t even remove the battery to charge it, so figuring that no one was going to run off lugging this huge, heavy, cumbersome object, I decided front and back wheel locks were sufficient to protect my precious Furby. Wrong! And damnit, Furby is a bitch to ride without juice. I had to waddle that thing home. Not cool.

So now I’m on this mission to replace the stupid thing. I’m not sure if I have to take my bike so they can check for fit or whether there’s some kind of serial number or part number or what. The hypermarts that sell e-bikes are far away, so I can’t really walk Furby there. I tried to call Carrefour to get the scoop. No answer. I passed a little street bike vendor and asked him about batteries. He quoted me 300 RMB ($36 USD) and said it would be new, but seeing as his shop was a total dive, I had a gut feeling the transaction was nothing more than the repurchase of a stolen and therefore already used battery. In the mean time, I suppose this is a good way to get in some exercise…

My friend Pamela is a stylish woman. Every person who meets her knows she’s got it together: the perfectly fitted jeans, the right blend of colors, the classy, understated accessories, and of course, the killer shoes. John’s made no secret about liking her shoes– polished, pointy, and high heeled (read: sexy). What, my generic Birkenstocks don’t do it for you, honey? Yes, we’re back to my style problem. I suppose it’s time for an upgrade of sorts… descriptors like librarian, frumpy, grandma, and student can only flatter me for so long. The big 3-0 is coming around the corner, and you know, it might be nice to NOT be labeled a grandma. I’m going to give this fashion thing a bash. Lucky for me, Pamela is more than happy to take me under her wing (more shopping for her!).

I don’t know how I arrived where I am, but I think most people who know me will agree: one of my biggest problems is that I’m super cheap (not necessarily for other people but definitely for myself). I frankly don’t know why I’m so extreme, but I have this weird game I play where I try to spend as little as possible each day. If left to my own devices, I could very well live in a tree (as my father has chided). I know, it’s not as if John and I are struggling for basic survival. Still, I guess I always have this belief that money is more for saving (for emergencies, essentials, “good” uses) than for spending. I also have this irrational fear that amassing lots of material things will ultimately consume and destroy us. Yes, a bit overdramatic, but hey what do you expect, it’s a compulsion right? Simply said, I have issues about money. I think that’s why I loved Cary Tennis’ column the other day about the destination wedding, about how money sometimes makes us compromise our values. Anyway, my money issue is another discussion for another day…

So couple my inherent cheapness with my overall impatience and voila, I’m someone who hates shopping and hates fussing over “getting ready.” Well in the year of the dog, I’m trying a new approach. The theme this new year is learning and improving. There’s much to be done. I need to improve in the following areas: dressing, cooking, exercising, and reading/writing Chinese. A full list, eh? This is gonna take a lot of work.

So I’ve been under Pamela’s tutelage for a week now, and I’ve shopped more with her than I’ve shopped in the last two years combined. Four days of serious, solid shopping. A bit exhausting but I think I’m getting the hang of it. Apparently, I was doing my body type wrong. I’m short waist, long legs. And my biggest fashion crime has been wearing high-waisted stuff. I’m guessing that’s where I picked up the grandma descriptor… Now Pamela’s got me wearing low- or mid-riders. Poor lady. I resisted strongly at first (Low-riders = Britney Spears with her pelvic bone hanging out!). But four days of intense shopping later, I am a convert. I now have three new pairs of jeans. Pamela is pleased that I’m adopting her ways but I don’t think she’s fully convinced I’m on board for good. Perhaps fearful of regression, she has instructed me to immediately move my old pairs to the donate pile. You have no idea (or maybe you do) how much of my clothes didn’t pass the Pamela test. River of Hearts can expect a hefty bag of clothing soon.

John is thrilled Pamela is helping me. He says I should just do whatever she advises, because when else am I going to find someone with the knowledge AND the willingness to reform me. In other words, if not Pamela, who else is going to help my sorry, no-style ass. Surely, I’m a difficult case study.

And damn, who knew shopping was such a process. Pamela knows when all the big seasonal sales are. She knows where the seams are supposed to fall on the shoulders, where the pant cuff is supposed to fall on your boots. She knows you have to hit a store several times even if it’s the same sale because all kinds of stuff emerge from storage when items on the floor clear out. Who the hell knew?

Back in my FMF days, I read Salon religiously. I was even a member, and Salon was on my PDA constantly. Somewhere in the last two years though, the sparks died. Maybe being outside of the US, I wanted to make room for more regional and local news (like the mediocre but safely unengaging Shanghai Daily). Maybe I grew obsessed with Democracy Now audio clips… I dunno exactly. Either way, I weaned myself off Salon. At the time, the ezine’s end seemed near, according to its editor. Convinced, I stopped keeping up.

Oddly, I came across Salon again a few months ago. I was reading something online (where else?) about animal rights activists. Then, I found “Thugs for Puppies.” It was a lengthy article, not their finest piece (I got a bit lost following the story), but reading the article got me thinking again. You know, it’s a shame that with so much diversity in the world, it’s still so difficult to find people with whom you truly connect. Descriptors like “dog lover” or “animal lover” or “activist” are no longer a viable Litmus test. There are crazies out there, man. EVERYwhere!

I’m especially curious about these SHAC people… I mean, how do they function in daily life? Do they not take medications? Do they not use saline solution or contact lenses or cosmetics? Surely, animals have always suffered with the development of these common products. What feasible alternatives or solutions do they suggest? And how does terrorizing people and their families and cracking skulls with ax handles convey their core message? I dunno about some of these activists.

Another example: Last time I was in San Francisco, I got so pissed off because Critical Mass was out one night. I was downtown driving, and suddenly the car was surrounded by all these cyclists. I had no idea what was going on (partly because I had been out of the country for 18 months). Next thing I knew, some dude cycled head on to my car. Obviously, I stopped. Then, he had me sit there for like ten minutes. First of all, what was his group’s message? No idea. Seriously, if you’re going to be an activist, deliver your message, disseminate information. Don’t just stop me and then ignore me. I’m a captured audience, so let me hear your pitch, you know? Sure, FMF also had its share of flaws, but any time we did an event, we had signs, flyers, and stickers, all with our URL. The movement isn’t just about us vs. them. It’s about building your case, reaching new people, growing the base.

Sorry, it’s late and I’m rambling. Back to Salon… Last night, I rediscovered Cary Tennis’s column, “Since You Asked.” It’s an advice column, but so much better than Ms. Manners or Dear Abbey or Savage Love (in Asia). So very thorough in analyzing the situation. I’m impressed. Of course, I guess it helps that the people seeking advice write intelligently and articulately too…

So the latest entry is about this grad student who’s stressed out because he cannot afford to attend his good friends’ destination wedding. So objectively, the case seems simple enough: you’re broke; decline the wedding invitation. But Cary offers so much more:

…I know the power of money to shame us into distorting the truth and abandoning our values. We might become artists or musicians or study arcane and little-understood phenomena, we might live more simply, we might dedicate ourselves to what we love, we might take time off from work to improve our lives and our relationships, we might spend more time with our children, if it weren’t for the fear of not having enough money, or appearing to not have enough money.

And we might indeed have enough actual money to do what we need to do if we were realistic and honest about what we need, and did not spend money to avoid being shamed or excluded or misunderstood or thought poorly of.

Rather than say, “I’m sorry, your destination wedding in Hawaii does not fit my budgetary plans for fiscal year 2006,” we say, “I’m so happy for you, I’ll be there!” We pretend to have money that we do not have. And then we create for ourselves a set of unreasonable expectations. We attend a wedding we cannot afford to attend and give gifts we cannot afford to buy. And then we pay later. We pay with our time. We pay with our dreams.

Not only that, but we regress politically and spiritually. As progressive people, we want to ask of every significant action we take, What will be the effect of this, not only practically but symbolically? What is the meaning of this destination wedding in Hawaii? Is it in keeping with my goals and values? Or is it an upper-middle-class fantasy that reveals a lack of commitment to progressive values? If I attend this wedding in Hawaii, does that mean that I endorse the idea of expensive destination weddings and the class-based fantasies they embody? What is my relationship with these people? Is it reciprocal? Would they respect my values in the same way? If I decided to, say, have a destination graduation party in the mountains of Peru, would they trek up the mountain and live in huts and eat simple food with me for four days to honor my commitment to simplicity and solidarity with the poor?

I don’t know. Maybe that’s stretching it a little. Maybe that’s being pretty hard on your friends. But your values count. Think about it in terms of who you are and what it means; find the courage to act according to your conscience and your pocketbook.

…

Money is neither your problem nor the solution to your problem. It’s more like air: It’s all around us and we just need to get enough of it to stay healthy.

He’s good, eh?

John and I are back from our trip to Taiwan. I have to say, the family meetup went way better than expected. Then again, I am quite the pessimist, and my expectations were set very low…

So what exactly do I mean when I say better than expected?
1. No comments questioning our lifestyle (living in Shanghai)
2. No probes on my undefined “career path”
3. No comparisons with so-and-so’s kids
4. No pro-Bush comments
5. No baby pressures

Can you believe it? Save for one event (mom spasing out because we skipped breakfast), the whole week was non-confrontational. Definitely a milestone for the Gou household.

Eh, on second thought, maybe number 5 isn’t wholly accurate. You see, my parents refrained from harassing us, but my aunt and uncle were an entirely different story. Get this. My aunt, with the help of my billingual cousin, coaxed John into the family room for a “special meeting.” (I was busy washing dishes.) So Auntie opened the meeting explaining why she’s isolated John for a chat. Apparently, she knew there was no sense talking to me, because I’d just lose my temper (Come on, am I really that volatile?). Then, she urged him to keep their discussion confidential, that is, secret from me. Clearly, he violated that pact. So long story short, Auntie told John my father has only one wish and that wish is to have a grandchild. Everyone in my family knows I’m opposed to raising children, but Auntie suggested that I might change my mind with careful proddings from John. John then explained that he doesn’t want kids either. Auntie persevered. “Just think about it,” she advised. Then came the strategy. My poor cousin… she had to translate this. My aunt basically suggested that John “forget” to use protection in the future. How screwy is that? My poor hubby. He gets cornered and then is subjected to this kind of discomfort!

When he told me about the “talk” that night, I got so pissed off. I mean, first, it’s like they think a child can be some kind of object or gift you can have and give to someone else. Of course I want my parents to be happy, but is it responsible for me to have a child that I don’t want just to please them? Is it right for their happiness to depend on my producing a child? It’s fucked up. Yes, their mentality is traditional and conservative. They want a legacy or whatever. Still, that doesn’t justify having an unwanted baby. Second, who is my aunt to be devising this a plan? I’m offended not only because she disregards OUR right to decide, but she goes on to recommend manipulation as a means to achieve her desired end. I mean, maybe it was offered partly in jest, but to suggest that John deliberately impregnate me? The very notion gets my blood going… Understandly, under these extreme conditions, John caved. I think in an attempt to pacify them, he said we weren’t ready for kids now, but maybe we’d consider the future. Normally, I would totally disagree with this approach because from my experience, you’re better off setting the record straight from the get go. Give an inch, and you’ll lose a foot. My position is barren womb forever, man. But I understand he was in an awkward place, so fine…

The day we left, my aunt warned, “In case you’re not careful…” Knowing where she was headed on this one, I cut her off, “Would I ever be careless? Would I NOT be careful?” She continued, “In the event that something happens, please don’t have an abortion…” God. Then, uncle chimed in, “Let your father be happy one time.” Nice. Goodbye to you too. Some nerve, I tell you.

John and I arrived in Taiwan yesterday. Life is good where there’s plenty of sunshine. Winter, schwinter no longer. Today, temps were in the high 70s, and I was running around in a tank top. Yes, my poor friends in SH and DC… they’re really missing out.

Besides basking in the rays, we’ve also been stuffing our faces nonstop with savory Taiwanese dishes and sweet, superfresh fruit. Ahh, the bell fruit never tasted so good.

The relatives are all well. I met up with most of them these last two days, including gramps, three aunts, three uncles, seven cousins, two nephews, and one niece. Gramps is 84 y/o but still very active. A few weeks ago, he went to the doctor for a visit. Thinking gramps was like any other 84-y/o, the office called him in advance advising that he prep some clothes just in case he needed to stay overnight for tests. Nope. He was in and out in an hour. The only doctor’s orders? Don’t ride the motorcycle. Getting too old for that. Little did doc know, gramps took himself to the appointment– by riding his motorscooter! Hey man, his hair is still jet black (no artificial coloring). The dude is probably healthier than John and I are. Every morning, he does his exercise sequence and then greens his thumb (am I coining a new phrase here?) planting rose bushes, corn, potatoes, what have you. Active man. And here I am vegging in front of my lappie. Yes, I feel blubby and lazy.

We went to Cheng Qing Lake the other day. It’s a sizeable park on the outskirts of Kaohsuing. It reminded me of one of the parks in downtown Hong Kong. Had that new, urban planning feel to it. We had quite the city caravan going too– four cars darting from one scenic spot to the other. Taiwan seems nicer than I remember from my trip here two years ago. Maybe living in China has lowered our expectations regarding quality of life. I’m not really sure. It could just be the warm weather. At this point, that’s key in winning me over.

My Chinese visa is supposedly ready for pickup tomorrow. Ah, the constant finagling for valid visas. Our situation has always required a good bit of leg work since we don’t have employers sponsoring us in Shanghai. In the past, we eked by on tourist visas (although my Big Blue visa did grant me one year of travel freedom): John certainly left the country often enough on business to renew his paperwork in the States. This year though, we finally have the system down. Earlier this month, John obtained a multi-entry business visa through an agent in town; I, a newbie student, am set to receive my coveted multi-entry student visa manana.

The visa bureau moved this year from Puxi (west river) to Pudong (east river). As with the former location, the new one is also inconveniently NOT located near the subway station. Given the trek out to Pudong will likely take an hour plus, I think I’ll give the bureau an extra day to make sure my stuff is processed to completion. Yes, my slip says Jan 24 for pickup, but I’ve been burned far too many times. Better just wait one more day and save me a second trip. All’s good, because anyway John and I are taking Wu Ayi out to lunch tomorrow for Chinese New Year. A sort of thank you lunch for putting up with all our slop and grime. Poor woman. She works her butt off, and every visit requires major damage control. Around here, we’re always in crisis mode.

I was on the phone most of today booking travel again. John’s slated for another 4-week trip to the States. I actually found a kickass agent with great US-China fares (about $400 cheaper than Travelocity!). And this lady was with the program: prompt email, the Sabre Travel interface (which is awesome– allows me to download the itinerary into Outlook), credit card purchase, PLUS e-ticketing. Such a breeze, unlike my booking experience earlier this afternoon when I was on the phone calling a dozen local agents for quotes to Taiwan.

This damn political tension between the mainland and Taiwan is such a nuisance. The trip would be such a quickie two-hour direct flight, but no siree, instead it’s a frickin’ 5-6 hour pain. And thanks to crossing borders twice, both legs are essentially international fights– damn expensive and a pain for visas. I mean, come on. There’s plenty of bad blood between China and Japan. Do you see them implementing some asinine, roundabout route from Shanghai to Tokyo? Nope. A simple 2-3 hour direct flight. Just $250 USD. Tickets to Taiwan? About $500. And for what, so I can twiddle my thumbs for an hour at the airport in HK or Macau? So lame. Sigh. Oh well, what can you do? It’s the biggest holiday of the year, my parents are in Taiwan now, and I haven’t seen my grandfather in two years. Have to just bite the bullet and go. At least I’ll get to load up on my favorite Taiwanese treats: pearl milk tea, dou hua (豆花), and green mung bean slushies. Yummy!

I have to say, this New Year is not starting off well. Seriously, it’s been one thing after another, dealing with assholes left and right. Really makes me question my desires to help people through nonprofit work. Maybe John’s right: most humans are bad, not good. First, it was the AAF letdown. Then it was the roadside ingrates who scrammed and let me get chewed out by the cabbie/murderer. Then my friend added insult to injury (emotional) by siding with the said cabbie. Today, it’s Ebay again. Ebay, why do you make it so difficult for me to love you? Why do you keep sending me psychos? This morning, I received the following email message from Kindra: “I would appreciate it if you would remove the feed back that you left for me. THE DISPUTE PENDING COMMENT. I am an excellent ebayer and that just does not look good for a comment. You got paid and I got my item. Sounds like a good transaction to me.” I mentioned this beotch before. To refresh your memory, she won my bid at the end of October. The day after the auction closed, she had buyer’s remorse and asked to “mutually agree to cancel” the auction. First of all, who the hell has ever even heard of this procedure? Only someone who manipulates the system often enough to know the ins and outs. Being the gullible person that I am, I actually came very close to canceling the bid. Ok, maybe she just got confused and made a mistake. No big deal, right? Then, I checked her earlier feedback. Four other neg/neutrals where she either had buyer’s remorse (and didn’t pay even though the other party did NOT agree to cancel the sale) or they “mutually agreed to cancel.” Suspicious. Sketchy. So I rejected her request. Then, no reply from her for 8 days, so I filed a dispute with Ebay. Meanwhile, I left negative feedback saying that a dispute was pending and she had a history of not paying. All true.

She eventually paid, and then I received angry emails from her, claiming that my feedback was premature, that I should have waited for the transaction to complete. What, now she’s the feedback authority? Does she know what feedback is? It’s MY opinion and MY impression of the experience. Duh. Ugh, I swear. People like her are so demented. So now, two and a half months later, she emails me again. As you read, she’s adamant about being an “excellent ebayer.” I just can’t believe she wants me to withdraw my feedback. Who the hell even knew this was possible? I thought feedback was permanent. Nope, apparently you can also “mutually agree to withdraw” comments. Alright Ebay, enough with the “mutually agree” bullshit.

Kindra also left me neutral feedback alleging that I didn’t follow Ebay protocol. What the hell? I know, I have to maintain composure and develop a thicker skin, but AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH! Okay, I responded to her feedback and tried my best to stick to the facts. She had buyer’s remorse and paid only after I disputed. I also clarified my “dispute pending” comment (which thoroughly bugged her) with a follow-up: “Pd only after I disputed and wants me to remove neg feedbk?” Ok, so the second part is maybe a bit inflammatory, but seriously, she has the nerve to ask me to remove my comment??!! Did you know you only get 80 characters for feedback? It’s so damn limiting. Then again, I suppose it’s a necessary constraint; otherwise, as you can see from my blog, I’d write a book.

Several months ago, I wrote about getting a kickass position with Animals Asia Foundation to start up Dr. Dog and Professor Paws in Shanghai. I was so so excited about the opportunity. Finally, I had found something that seemed to match my passions perfectly. Well, I should have known it was too good to be true (spoken like a true cynic). The organization called me last week, and somewhere between November and January, their board of directors decided to can the Shanghai plans and instead focus efforts on Guangzhou, where dogs and cats are popular foods. Of course, it makes sense to implement programs in areas thriving with dog and cat markets. Still, the organization screwed me. I mean, seriously, thanks for the zero heads up. So basically, all of the sudden, I was informed the position was gone. Classy. I tell you… non-profits have great heart and purpose but geez, they certainly leave a lot to be desired in the business management and practices department.

ANYway, I guess I’m over the disappointment now. I’ve moved on. Mandarin classes next month will keep me fairly busy, and I’ll supplement my time with teaching and part-time/contract gigs. Oddly enough, I got a call the other day from my former PM at Big Blue. They’re looking for someone to do voice work (North American accent). Considering it’s just reading stuff aloud and the pay is 4 times what I earned working for them as a writer/editor/content developer, I agreed to put my name in the running. A few days later, I got news that the client picked my melodious voice for their web-based training modules. Awww yeah! Ok, I won’t have a celebration dinner or anything. It’s not like I’m doing voicework for Monsters, Inc. or anything. In fact, I got my butt up at the crack of dawn this morning, biked to the metro, then hopped on the company shuttle and rode all the way out to the free trade zone. Man, that place is like No Man’s Land. Scary. Out in the middle of no where with shuttle buses as the only link to the outside world. I got the script, and it was really exciting stuff like fire safety protocols and floor leader responsibilities. Thrilling, I know. Yet another example of the glamorous life I lead. 🙂

Ok, so really the biggest part of my trip was this: I got into a huge fight with the cabbie on the way back to Harbin airport. I know, seems a bit silly to divulge the details but frankly, this info is critical to understanding the situation (and ultimately siding with me). So at the beginning of the cab ride, we agreed to pay 100 RMB. Well fifteen minutes into the ride, the cabbie pulled over. On the shoulder of the expressway, there was another cab with two passengers. Our cabbie asked if we could squeeze more passengers into our vehicle. The cab was already quite small, so John was not keen on this. One in the front seat, ok but not two. Thinking that the other taxi broke down or something, I asked our driver what’s the situation? He said he’d find out. He leaves and on coming back, plops all their luggage in the trunk and two people squeeze in, not even acknowledging our presence. What the fuck, right? The driver turns around, and thanks us (meanwhile, the other passengers still say NOTHING, frickin’ mutes). I tell him I’m paying half fare. He laughs it off and drives. Fast forward thirty minutes, we arrive at the airport, the others grab their stuff and jet. No money changes hands between them and the cabbie. I hand the driver 70, instead of the initially stated 100. I tell him, I’m not paying for their part of the fare. We argue. He says we agreed to 100, and we agreed to the others coming on board. I tell him, I said one and he came back with two and just stuffed their shit in the trunk without even asking me. Back and forth. I throw the money in the trunk and leave.

Standing in line to check in, my face is red with anger, but I take a deep breath and calm myself down, thinking we’re out of there soon. Whadya know? The guy parked his cab and came in to find us. He starts yelling and screaming, accusing me of cheating him of his money. I yell and scream back. He hurls all kinds of insults and calls me the worst kind of Chinese foreigner, an embarrassment to all Chinese. I tell him he’s dishonest, and he’s targeting us because we’re foreigners. It was quite the scene. Everyone was watching intently but keeping out of it. He threatened to sue me. I dared him to sue me. Man, my blood was boiling, I tell you. And it’s not easy carrying on like this in another language. I will say though, that a phrase I learned recently on ChinesePod came in handy. When he kept going on and on demanding money, I said, “Have you no ears?” I’m not paying, man. Screw off! Going on fifteen minutes, we neared the front of the check-in line. Thank goodness a tour guide butted in and mediated. I parted with another 10, and at the urgings of the tour guide, psychopath finally left. Can you believe this dude? Paid 5 just to park his car to find us. When I got to the check-in desk, the officer suggested I was in the wrong, 70 being too low for a ride to the airport. Then I explained that we picked up two other people, who didn’t pay him crap. Oh, well then yeah, you shouldn’t have given him anything. That’s right buddy. I’m right. He’s wrong. Get the facts straight.

Oddly enough, my friend who the driver was going to pick up and take to the airport after us (she was on a later flight), STILL ended up using his services. I explained to her what happened, and she STILL gave him business. What the hell, man? She called me today and said he arrived all pissed off but she mediated the situation. How? By telling him that I’m a foreigner and we likely didn’t understand what he was saying. Come again? I know my Mandarin is far from high functionality, but I definitely grasped what was going on. But since she essentially sided with him, they had a nice little heart to heart. The closest apology he offered was regret in letting his temper shoot out of control. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

And you know what else? Turns out, this guy is an ex-con! He was jailed for killing someone a few years back. Supposedly, he and his brother were eating at a street side shop. They got into a fight (imagine that!) with two other guys. He stabbed one guy to death. Then, the other guy stabbed his brother to death. Nice. Tit for tat at its best. Whatever though. In the end, my friend gave him an extra 20 even though he “didn’t want it.” That is totally fucked up, man. It’s one thing for her to use his services even after I tell her he’s trying to gyp me. It’s another thing to blame ME for the “misunderstanding.” But Jesus Christ, paying him extra money? That’s the last straw. It’s so OVER!