April 1, 2012 – Wuhan, China. Raymond and I were standing at the curb in front of a botanical gardens in search of a taxi. However, few taxis seemed to patrol this area and none that did were empty. The only available taxis were “black-market” taxis. Black market taxis are unmarked vans that pull up to you, slide open their street-side door, and offer you a ride with a driver smile reminiscent of a child abductor waving a lollipop. No taxi certifications, fare schedule meter, licenses, or guarantee of not getting kidnapped. I refused to even consider taking this risk despite my growing frustration with our inability to get a real taxi.
We blew the only “real taxi” opportunity we had. A taxi pulled up to the curb to drop off a young woman. We ran over to the taxi, preparing to climb in the taxi once the young woman got out. However, she was not getting out of the taxi; she was arguing with the driver. I asked Raymond what they were arguing about. He told me she was telling the driver that she forgot her wallet and had no money on her. I asked Raymond how much was her fare. In US dollars it was some ridiculously small amount of money (as are many things in China). I suggested to Raymond that we pay the girl’s fare and drag her out of the taxi, so we can have it. However, by the time Raymond realized I was serious and tried to decide whether to do it, the taxi took off. Raymond said the taxi was taking the young woman to somewhere she could hook up with friends that could pay her fare.
We blew it.
***
Our only remaining option was taking a bus. Just the line for getting on a bus was about three buses long (this forming a line was strange because as shown below from earlier this day, Chinese prefer rushing the bus, rather than waiting in line). Oh, and Raymond was not sure which bus to take. We agreed to take any bus and when the bus traveled into a more 'taxi friendly' area, we would get off the bus and transfer to a taxi.
We did have some luck. Buses were frequent and took such huge numbers of people at a time, the wait was not as long as we might have guessed. We managed to just not make it on the previous bus. Therefore, we would be one of the first riders on the next bus and with this timing we would be lucky or unlucky enough to get choice seats. We took the seats just across the aisle from the bus’ back doors. I had the window seat and Raymond had the aisle.
At this first stop, the bus loaded far beyond capacity and then after pulling away it stopped at a few more touristy areas around the lake, picking up even more and more people, that calmly and quietly squeezed closer and closer together, completely filling in the aisle until the next stop came and even more people got on despite probably far exceeding the capacity of the bus. It’s impossible to describe just how filled the bus got and how many Wuhan-locals were staring (often blankly) towards, but not directly at, the one non-Chinese person around…me.
Scenes From a Wuhan Bus Stop
The Chinese do not usually form lines - its first come, first on.
***
By now, it was starting to get dark out, making it hard to judge where we were or whether empty taxis were around. Yeah, I was getting worried. But the worst was still to come.
***
Raymond looked straight at me and said, “Let’s get off at the next stop.”
I said, “How are we going to get off?” The bus was completely over-packed similar to the old skits where dozens of clowns stuffed into a VW Bug or Mini Cooper pop out. The entire aisle between us and the rear door was filed three or four wide with people and there were even people standing on the steps leading from the aisle down to the rear door.
Raymond’s words of wisdom and experience to me were “just push your way out; keep pushing.”
My response was “you’re crazy.” But I saw Raymond grabbing his bag and getting ready to “race for” the rear door.
As Raymond and I were not chained together like a chain gang, there was a possibility of Raymond getting off this bus without me. Just the thought of this possibility ratcheted up my anxiety level to about 8/10. Raymond, not having my size liabilities would be easier able to squeeze his way through the highly compressed crowd. Raymond did not need to make a path, he could just move among the tiny spaces in between the riders. Me, I would have to bulldoze my large frame across the aisle, making my own path down the steps. while moving against the rush of people trying to get on the bus at the rear door (allowed or tolerated in China).
The bus stopped, but for whatever reason the driver did not open the rear doors. Raymond was already half way into the crowded aisle and as I moved to follow him, people already wedged passed me and took our seats, so if we did not get off here, we would be joining the standers.
There was some screaming in Mandarin as Raymond told the driver to open the rear doors.
The rear doors opened.
At that moment, I just followed Raymond and his directions and pushed my way towards the open door. Creating my own path as pushing through the densely-packed crowd while guarding my pockets, my backpack and my passport, I just kept pushing. Each step for me was small and the rear door did not seem to get any closer. Anxiety level: 9/10.
If this game of “follow the leader” were playing out in NYC, I am sure I would have been cursed out, at least, and punched in the face, at most. Pushing your way off a Chinese bus completely disregards the American concept of “personal space” and “keep your hands to yourself.” I just followed Raymond’s instructions and kept pushing my way towards the door, disregarding who or what I was rubbing against. Such vigorous person-to-person contact is accepted as a fact of life in crowded China.
Raymond made it off. Anxiety level: 10/10. I had no idea how long that door would remain open and whether I would be able to push enough people out of my way to get through it before it closed. Shoving yet even more aggressively against the crowd and down the steps, I was finally squirted out of the rear door, luckily not losing my balance on the last step and falling face down or face up in the street.
***
We had no clue where in Wuhan we were and it was now late dusk. Anxiety level back to a reasonable 7/10. At least I made it off the bus.
***
We now managed to catch a taxi; a legal taxi. I tossed my backpack in the empty backseat and then crawled in after it, like I had done many times on this trip, while Raymond took the passenger seat and spoke with the driver.
My first impression was the driver was going to kick us out of the taxi. From my sense of listening to the tone of the Mandarin conversation between Raymond and the driver and the driver’s wildly waving hands, either the driver did not know where we wanted to go or he just did not want to take us. We still had not pulled away from the curb.
The driver finally pulled away from the curb while arguing with his dispatcher over the radio about where we were going. I still figured there was a chance we would get thrown out of the taxi, but Raymond told me the driver figured out where we were going. However, since it was rush hour and we were so far out of way, it would take about an hour. I didn’t care. The ride would at least allow me to calm down. I could sit back here and relax despite the fact that the driver was screaming and hand waving at Raymond the whole trip. On went the ear buds and on went the Beth Hart. Beth’s voice and especially her hard-rocking Live at the Paradiso spent plenty of time in my head on this trip.
Oh, as for the driver's screaming and hand waving, I would later find out that the driver was merely proud of Wuhan and pointing out its sites and major visitors to Raymond.
