Well, there have been little ones, and this one didn’t result in anything bad happening or having to choke down anything unexpected for lunch, but it’s worth relaying anyway.
After the overnight train from Beijing we queued up for a taxi to the hotel. With notebook in hand, I told the driver that we’re headed to Motel 168–he finished the sentence for me, which is always a good sign. So I said the address (there’s lots of Motel 168s, and ours has a 268 next door–I’m not sure if it’s better or worse). 1119 Yan’an Road. “Er, Er, Er, Jiu.” You see where this is going.
A bit down the highway we pass a 168. ‘That one’s not yours.’ We get off the highway and ‘Damn, I went too far.’ He turned off the meter, which I thought was a nice touch, and hooked a u-turn. We went back a few blocks and there was a bit of muttering under his breath. After a bit of confusion, he pulls to the side and jumps out and talks to a security guard. I pull out the Lonely Planet and when he gets back I say ‘I have a map.’ To which he replies (I’m guessing) ‘why didn’t you tell me you had a map.’ And I point to the intersection. Jiangsu Road and Yan’an Road intersection. He looks at me like I’m an idiot. ‘你说了二二二九。 那个不是什么什么什么!’ He’s annoyed. I’m confused. I hold my ground and start toning hard. There’s a bit of back and forth. He obviously knows exactly what I’m saying, but I’m only catching a bit of him. “You said…you said….” I open my notebook and point to the address: “看。 一一一….”
I had told him 2229 Yan’an Road. The address is 1119. Oddly, a properly formed and pronounced “Fuck. I’m so embarrassed” (‘zao. 不好意思’) falls immediately out of my mouth. He laughed at that and pulled back on the road. All the way he chuckled ‘一一一…. 二二二…’ And continued to refuse to turn the meter back on.
While tipping is not a custom in China, I insisted. It is the guy’s gas after all.
Obviously, if this is the worst thing that happens this week, we’ll be fine.