On Wednesday I went to Ikea. Probably the worst day so far.

I checked out of the hotel with the remainder of our luggage (just 3 bags) around noon on Wednesday. Before leaving the hotel I got my address and Ikea’s address written out in Chinese by the concierge. Then off I went, into the fiery underground that was Wednesday. The cab to the apartment was okay, the cab driver was coughing like crazy! It made me feel really uncomfortable, because he wouldn’t cover his mouth and he would just cough out right. Nevertheless after using my Chinese skills to get us to the gate of the compound, we arrived. The cab driver didn’t give me back my written out address, but by the time I realized it, it was too late and plus he had coughed all over it.

I hauled all my bags into my building. Out of breathe and tired I began to unlock the vault of doors into my apartment. The first door is a huge metal door which has two locks. One is a deadbolt, the other is a magnetic card you swipe at the bottom of the door which then releases some kind of lock at the top of the door and lets you into the main door which just has one lock. I guess the landlord was hording diamonds when she had the doors and locks installed.

Once I got in I settled, put my bags away and got everything I needed for Ikea. My written out Ikea address, my purse and my pocket Mandarin guide. I went to the corner on this faithful day and flagged a cab. If only any other cab driver had pulled over. I got in, showed him my address, he nodded (as if he knew where we were going) and began driving. At the next intersection he made a U-Turn and pulled over right across the street from where he picked me up. This wasn’t Ikea. Because of an earlier cab ride I knew Ikea was in my hood. Based on the address, I knew it was on my street and that we had to go over the freeway (which is why I couldn’t walk). So when he turned around, it made sense, that was the direction we were suppose to be going in. But when he pulled over gesturing to me that this was the place it didn’t make sense. I shook my head saying that this wasn’t it. And then he exploded. He screamed and yelled, like nothing I had ever heard. I didn’t understand what he was yelling about, and I didn’t want to know. It was no doubt he was screaming about me or the address or something. What i didn’t get is if he was so unhappy with me why didn’t he just give me back my paper and let me leave. I needed to get out, but he had started driving again, screaming and yelling he pulled into a parking lot, blocking all traffic coming in and out. When the security guard came out to tell him to move he yelled and yelled. I got my bags and decided I needed to get out. I asked for my paper with the address back and offered him the fare that was on the screen. He screamed and yelled and screamed some more. I didn’t know what he was saying. But he was in people’s way and he would move the car only to get in their way more, as if he wanted to entice a fight. I couldn’t get out and I didn’t know what was going on. I couldn’t jump out of a moving car, could I? If I opened the door while he was driving, would he stop?  And I hadn’t paid the fare would he do something if I didn’t?

Finally he got on the road again, but now there was no way of getting out. I pulled out my dictionary and looked up blue, yellow, big and building. I said all the words to him, hoping he would get it. He got the colors, he got the big and finally he got the building part. He screamed some more but seemed to settle down, now that he understood. That didn’t stop him from driving like a maniac. As we approached the freeway over pass, I noticed an accident taking up a lane of traffic. There were about four lanes open on the left which had traffic going through at a descent rate. On the right there was one lane, which was partially blocked by the accident. Guess what lane Mr. Taxi Man decided to take. With out even a tap on the breaks, he tried to speed through the semi blocked right lane. He didn’t make it. The side of the taxi scrapped the wall. He stops his car, gets out and screams and yells at the people who were in the accident. As if he was blaming them. He didn’t hit their cars and they didn’t hit his. All the damage done was by him hitting a wall. I have never wanted to get out of a car so badly. But now we were on a freeway over pass, there are no pedestrian walk ways. None at all.

As we left the scene of the accident and made it across the freeway over pass, I saw the yellow and blue building I had tried so desperately to explain to the taxi driver. I pointed it to him, showed him. He knew and pulled over in front of it. I took my paper, threw money at him (I don’t even know how much) and got out as quickly as possible. I was shaking, trembling. I sat down for a moment and just caught my breathe. I thought of all the possible scenarios of what I could have done, or what he could have done. There was no point in scaring myself, it was over and I was where I needed to be.

I wanted nothing more then to get out of there. So I got what I needed quickly and hurried to the check out.

When you arrive at the airport there are what you call black cars. They are unregistered taxis basically and they can charge you what ever they want and they usually do. Every guide book about China tells you to avoid these gentlemen. They creep out of corners saying “Taxi?” Any unsuspecting tourist could think they were actually Taxi’s. What the guide books don’t tell you is that they are also at your local Ikea. They stand around asking you “Taxi?” and following you around the store until you ignore them for long enough or say yes. After what I had just gone through I wanted nothing more then to punch them in the face. But I restrained myself and checked out, stood in line and waited for a real Taxi.

This Taxi Man was a jerk but not like the other one. I told him where I needed to go he missed the entrance to my compound and get irritated. By the time we got into the gates he didn’t even help me unload my bags. He just sat there, like “hurry.” At this point I could care less if he was frustrated with me. I hated him for being rude to me after everything I had gone through. As I stood at the gate of the compound with more bags then I could carry, I looked around. This day had taken out a whole lot of hope from me.

I gathered all my things, dragging one bag on the ground. Out of breathe and tired, I just wanted to get home. I walked by three or four men, one sitting and reading the paper, another walking by, NONE of them offered to help me. Then an older lady maybe 60 or 70 saw my struggle and helped me all the way to my door. She was so nice. I couldn’t believe it. I thanked her profusely and looked through all my bags for the keys. Finally I found them unlocked the vault which is my door and got in. I decided at that moment I would not leave again.

4 Comments »

1. 

   OK THATS FREAKY… YOU SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN OUT THE CAR AND NOT PAYED HIM A DAMN THING ….. HE MUST HAVE REALLY WOKEN UP ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE BED!!!! OR HI JUST VERY UNHAPPY HE NEEDS DRUGS

   Comment by PILAR — December 16, 2008 @ 10:38 am

2. 

   holy crap! how awful! I’m sorry the day was so bad, and i hope you recover. you’re going to be alright! it was bound to happen at some point that not speaking chinese would turn into a bad situation, but you did the best you could! the guy was just an ass.

   Comment by Lordog — December 18, 2008 @ 9:30 am

3. 

   Were you Pissed….

   Comment by Alexis — December 23, 2008 @ 12:12 pm

4. 

   Whos dog is it?

   Comment by Alexis — December 23, 2008 @ 12:14 pm

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