Even before I moved to Beijing, I considered my future commute to work. Commuting is important to me. I don’t like the feeling of being rushed or not in control of my arrival time. I’ve never needed to take public transportation, which is a privilege I had always acknowledged, but often forgot on a day-to-day basis. Hop in my car when I need to buy some batteries from the store; attend a last minute event on the other side of town; follow through with plans despite the weather conditions. This is what I did when I owned a car. When I arrived in Beijing, I contemplated the transportation options that could cheaply and efficiently get me to work. It seemed the subway was the answer.
It just so happened that the week I started work fell right around Golden Week, which commemorates the founding of the People’s Republic of China. During this week, the subway was wonderful. As I waited for my stop, I listened to music, podcasts, or read an article. I had two transfers, but they weren’t terribly inconvenient. Then everything changed.
The holiday ended and everyone returned to work. The subway station exploded from a quiet buzz to a swarm of bodies moving from one transfer to the next. Upon exiting the train, I was swept away with the crowd, up the escalator, through the hallway, down the stairwell, to the next train. In front of each train entrance, faded lines indicate where one should stand when the doors open to allow for a steady flow of traffic in and out of the cars. These lines were ignored. Instead, an impatient crowd gathered round each entrance, slowly edging closer and closer as the train came to a stop. As the doors opened, few waited for passengers to get off to make room for the incoming crowd. Instead, a silent pushing of bodies ensued. Devoid of emotion or defence, it felt odd and out of place to protest…besides, protesting isn’t exactly encouraged in China.
Once inside, I couldn’t move my arms from my sides to skip to the next song. No one looked up from their phones. In desperation to take my mind off the stifling crowd, I craned my head to one of the many television screens illuminating the car.
Oh, it’s the military parade I thought to myself. That’s interesting. I know it took place in September, but I haven’t had the chance to see the footage.
Three months later, the same footage is screened on that subway line. On repeat. No breaks. Only constant footage from the September 2015 military parade. It’s currently January 2016.
I wrote a poem about my subway commute. This also happened to be at time when I was having problems connecting to a VPN server at work, which was so utterly frustrating it literally brought me to tears:
At work-
Eyes twitch impatiently in front of a screen
waiting for the right configuration
to connect.
Double fist devices-
Check my feed, glance back.
On the train-
Shoulders hunched
axis fallen from atlas
facial muscles slackened,
chin no longer discernible.
Eyes twitch impatiently in front of a screen.
Don’t raise your head.
DO NOT raise your head.
A woman wearing hot pants and a visor sips a cola and smiles.
Her image flickers 10,000 times through the glass windows.
Just as quickly, you are called back.
Eyes twitch impatiently in front of a screen.
This may seem like an anti-technology rant, but it’s really not. It was a cathartic release in response to China’s Great Firewall and the insanity of the subway during rush hour.
But this is all behind me because, in mid-October 2015, I bought an electric blue scooter from a Belarusian girl who studied linguistics and was moving to Florida at the end of the month. This scooter changed my life. It reduced my commute from 1.25 hours to just over 30 minutes.I was suddenly freed from the mass of people I dreaded encountering each morning.
This is not to say scooter life is care free. It’s not. You see, there is a sort of pecking order to Beijing’s traffic. The largest of vehicles, buses, have the most power while the smallest of “vehicles”, pedestrians, hold only a fraction of the power. Thus, scooters rank just above pedestrians.
Traffic lights and signs are merely a suggestion to vehicles. A right turn on red is completed at full speed with absolutely no propensity to yield. An aggressive left turn is the only way one will gain ground at intersections. Gridlock, though easily avoidable, is commonplace. Though seemingly chaotic, this system somehow functions.
Not a day goes by that I don’t shout profanities through the insulation of my helmet when someone cuts me off or stops short in the middle of the road without warning. To help ease my frustration, because I’m afraid one day I will actually lose it and bash someone’s windshield in with the back of my hand, I’ve begun to make up song lyrics based on an existing song, that specifically deals with my commute.
The first song was created after listening to the children’s choir practice at the British school I work at one Fridays. I found it insanely funny that they were singing David Bowie’s Space Oddity. As I drove home that day, I created the following lyrics:
This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I’m trying to commute
And this highway has the most unfortunate view
This is Major Tom to Ground Control
My scooter’s electric blue
And I’m fighting for a small amount of room
This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I said I’d be home soon
But this gridlock is now making me feel doomed
This is Ground Control to Major Tom
Have patience you’ll be home soon
Where you can drown your angst and anger out with booze
Here is one I wrote with with Best Coast The Only Place in mind:
Why would you live anywhere else?
We’ve got pollution
lasts for days.
We can commute
in many ways!
Why would you live anywhere else?
Organization
not okay.
No you can’t fight
for higher pay!
Why would you live anywhere else?
We’ve got no room
on the subway.
But we can watch
the big parade!
Why would you live anywhere else?
We’ve got no rules
on the highway.
We cross the street
when not okay!
I was feeling particularly down about the pollution on this day.
More songs to come…beep beep!