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But we couldn't; stopped short by guards, my headband
tightened again. We had to show our tickets, put our luggage on a
conveyor belt that took the articles through an x-ray machine, and
get scanned ourselves as we passed through a gate. We quickly went
through, and picked up our packs on the other side. Now that we were
cleared to be inside, I wasn't totally sure of where to go, but I
thought that the soft-seat lounge was the best place to start. After
all, we did have tickets for deluxe, which is the best! Inside, we
sought information from an official, who, after looking at our
tickets, directed us upstairs. We high-stepped around slower moving
people, reaching the stairwell to ascend it two or three steps at a
time, even though we were burdened by our load.
We walked into the same hallway above the tracks that
I had when I first came here a week ago, vainly seeking a way out
for us, and found all of the doors still chained and locked. The
band was around my head wrenched tighter—we didn't have much time
left before our train departed! We moved back toward the stairwell,
passing by an information desk. We put our bags down as I saw the
same agent I had seen a week ago at this same desk, except this time
she was being verbally abused by and especially loud, vociferous,
and, I thought, a rather obnoxious native. The information woman sat
there, completely ignoring the yelling man, but then gave rapt
attention to another woman who had stepped around the man.
An epiphany struck, loosening my headband as I
cracked the code of effective communication in China. Inspired, I
too, stepped around the shouting man, being careful to first bow.
She looked at my ticket, and directed us to waiting room #2, just
around the corner, “...and be quick about it!” My headband slacked
a bit as I gave another quick bow, choosing to not strangle the
raving man as that would have broken the Chinese code of civility,
possibly endangering our immediate task. We raced into the room,
with me pulling our weakening black bag along the floor. When I saw
other passengers crowding through a door at the other end of the
waiting room, I had a gut instinct that they were heading to our
train. The biggest clue was that it was a throng of non-Oriental
folk pressing through the opening.
Crowding in also, I saw another stairwell that had
been roped off, with access strictly regulated by one uniformed
woman. We had to show our tickets again, and, shunted off to the
side, were given a Chinese declaration statement. I was startled to
see that this time, they were inexplicably written in Chinese
only. I felt the band around my head draw tight.
It made absolutely no sense to me to fill this bloody
thing out, especially since we were so far from the border and
SO CLOSE TO OUR TRAIN! Another pair of backpackers had
also been shunted like us as well, given the same document, but they
jumped the railing, onto the stairs, and vanished below.
“That is exactly what we are going to do!” I
frantically said to Katarena and Enrique, who understood me
perfectly. I leapt over the railing onto the stairs, and stood there
while they passed me our ripping plastic bag. After setting it
beside me on a step, I then helped bring their packs over, and they
followed. We began hustling down the stairs,and, while hoisting our
black bag to my shoulder, a small hole opposite the tear opened up.
My tightened headband clinched when an elderly woman
called to us in a high pitched Edith Bunker manner, ”Long walk to
go!“
We almost fell to the platform, where we met a
conductor, who, after looking at our tickets, pointed way the heck
far down the platform, to wagon #9. Now running, we met a large
attendant filling the doorway. Again, we had to show our
tickets. We were gasping for air as our bodies consumed voluminous
quantities of oxygen, but as he deliberately inspected the tickets,
our eyes were fixed on him, we held our breath, the whole world
stopping.
Then, his dour lips slowly bent upward into a smile,
and he stepped aside.
After ensuring that Kataren and Enrique were in, I
threw in the black bag, causing it to split open, spilling the
contents on the floor, and finally pulling myself up the short
ladder. A shrill steam whistle pierced the air, and the train
jerked, causing me to fall onto the carpeted floor along with my
glasses making a soft landing beside me.
We had made our train.
The tourniquet about my head completely
disappeared.
[THE
END]. |
