My Beijing Commute
In Spring and Fall my bicycle gets met to work in a flash, no trouble at all. It’s only two and half miles, a straight shoot through the bustling Chinese morning craziness. But in the brutal Summer and blistering Winters, the subway is the only mode for me, anything else would be laziness.
Sure there are taxis, and as US loves to say, the RMB is worthless, so the fares are cheap anyway. But for a Beijing commute, cost is not the concern, thick traffic deters from the Second Ring Road.
On the way to the subway the streets are lined with commuters and venders, who all gather around to watch cars in their fender benders. Just outside baoli dasha is a giant ‘City TV’, extolling the virtues of China, and proclaiming what a success the Olympics will be.
Deep underground scores of Chinese are in lining up to practice their queuing, to help them along are guards in blue stripes since the people know not what they are doing. When the train arrives the group pushes forward as a mass, fortunately this is Beijing and not Japan, so no one will pinch a lady’s ass.
There is one guard I particularly like who pushes people into the subway car, although we’ve never spoken I’ve long admired him from afar. At two meters high and thin as a rail, ‘Stretch’ is the nickname that enters my mind without fail.
My commute is only two stops on the train, but it feels like forever as I’m crushed against the door in pain. By the time we arrive there are minor feelings of hate, but this is where I must leave or I’ll surely I will be late.
So that is the commute for the gent in Beijing, and if you’ve ever lived here it surely has a familiar ring.
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