06-24-2013, 11:43 AM
I have a window seat -- 53K -- on the flight out. Two white guys sit next to me. One is borderline Tourette's, which is my future, so he makes fine (if noisy) company. He reads a stack of newspapers and at one point shows his pal a piece on Amish romance novels. They are a hot commodity right now. I resolve to check up on this when I get back, because where Amish romance novels are hot, can Amish science fiction be far behind?
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424...43412.html
We soon discover something screwy about our seats. In particular, my window-seat light is controlled by the button on the aisle armrest, while the aisle seat is controlled by my window armrest. It's crazy, and inexplicable on a United plane. To toggle my light on or off, I need to unbuckle my seat belt, half stand up, and lean way over the guy in the middle to punch the light button on the aisle arm rest. Needless to say, I don't bother much with my light.
Headphones are provided, but they are defective. If I hold the plug halfway in the armrest socket, I get staticky sound. It's not clear whether the plug or the socket is the problem. But it means I don't watch any of the movies with sound.
First up is Oz the Great and Powerful, which soon captivates me with its dwarves -- until Mr. Tourette next to me removes his shoes and socks. To my absolute astonishment, his feet are beautiful. I mean, how does one grow feet like that? They are aesthetically stunning. Has he never worn shoes in his life? Does he get foot massages morning and night? I am aghast at just how flawless they are.
Before I know it we're descending towards Beijing. I had hoped to contemplate the full breadth of the Pacific Ocean, but those feet make the 12 hours pass in an instant. I do have vague memories of other movies after Oz, the last of which is Skyfall. As we descend, we're in the soup. The "clouds" follow us all the way to the ground. Visibility on arrival is maybe 400 meters. It. Does. Not. Look. Healthy.
The Beijing airport is huge and modern, and only a little bit confusing. But one must walk what seems miles to complete the tour of activities required to gain entry. Just when it seems I'm done, I come to the "Please stand clear of the door the train is being delayed" train. I need to take it to Terminal 3, which is where you exit proper. I spend quite a while aboard the "Please stand clear of the door the train is being delayed" train with a lot of other people jockeying for position, and eventually it grows bored with sitting still and begins to move, eventually to reach the mythical Terminal 3.
Terminal 3 has arrows for taxis and buses, tantalizing evidence that the outdoors is imminent, and that's when I make a very wise decision. I hit a restroom. I'm not desperate and consider waiting until I reach the hotel, but am very glad I make the stop. Afterwards, I run the gauntlet at the exit, where a huge welcoming crowd does its best to obscure my view of a tiny sign with my name misspelled on it (Scranefly). Its bearer helps me with my minimal luggage, and soon I am joining Lee, a woman who won in the short film category, in a taxi.
The taxi driver is a talkative soul with a crude understanding of English. He points to cars slipping past on the berm and announces, "Illegal," time and again. Once he says (struggling with the pronunciation), "Ferrari," and yes, it is a bright red Ferrari zipping past on the berm.
Lee has come from Denver, which means she's been traveling by air a lot longer than me. She's held up just fine. But now she asks, sounding desperate, "How much further?" It turns out she is prone to car-sickness. It is rush hour, and we are in the traffic jam from hell. It will take us close to three hours to reach the hotel, and my bladder thanks me for making that stop. Lee asks if I'd mind if she opened the window for some fresh air. I tell her that's fine, but wonder how much fresh air she'll get. The smog is horrific, visibility still around 400 yards. She rolls down her window and soon has her head resting awkwardly half out. She looks sick as a dog, and I can't think of any way to help her. People in other cars and buses gape at her in close passing. I suspect she adds half an hour to our trip because our driver, in his jockeying, allows an extra three inches of clearance on her side so as not to behead her. Eventually it begins to drizzle, and this revives her a bit. We complete the three hour drive to the hotel without a major mishap.
Actually, we don't go directly to the hotel. Our first stop is the Beijing Film Academy. The short film winners are staying there, so that's where Lee will be getting off. Malinda our guide meets our taxi and has us both come inside to get something to eat in the cafeteria. Actually, it's called the Movie Story Theme Restaurant & Bar, and it proves problematic throughout the week, as orders take ages or are completely forgotten. An hour later we've eaten our fill, and I say bye to Lee and get in a taxi to head for the Park Plaza Hotel.
The check-in lady engages in a cruel game with me. She asks if I want smoking or nonsmoking. I tell her nonsmoking. She thumbs through her records, making little humming sounds, and after five minutes singsongs, "I'm sorry. We don't have any nonsmoking." So of course I agree to take a smoking room. I inquire about changing money, but she seems to suggest it would be better to wait until morning. I acquiesce, knowing an awkward moment is coming as the concierge helps me with my luggage. He demonstrates how the elevator requires my room key to work, and then introduces me to my hotel room with its eternally on TV. There is that awkward pause at completion, and then he leaves. I'll try tipping him later (though the opportunity never quite avails itself). I unpack, all the while wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into, and I set up Lady Cranefly's notebook and give the internet a spin. I had read that China's internet is faster than ours, but here at least it is absolutely horrible. When I bring up Skype, it tells me the connection speed is too slow to make a call. That persists throughout my stay. The TV is a steady blare. I try lowering the volume, but can't. I also fail at changing the channel. Neither the remote nor the controls on the TV have any affect. Incredibly, not even the off button will work on the remote or TV. I try various wall switches. Finally, with considerable effort, I work the power plug out of the TV itself. Silence and blankness at last. (Later I learn that everyone else staying at the hotel has to do the same thing.)
I go to bed.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424...43412.html
We soon discover something screwy about our seats. In particular, my window-seat light is controlled by the button on the aisle armrest, while the aisle seat is controlled by my window armrest. It's crazy, and inexplicable on a United plane. To toggle my light on or off, I need to unbuckle my seat belt, half stand up, and lean way over the guy in the middle to punch the light button on the aisle arm rest. Needless to say, I don't bother much with my light.
Headphones are provided, but they are defective. If I hold the plug halfway in the armrest socket, I get staticky sound. It's not clear whether the plug or the socket is the problem. But it means I don't watch any of the movies with sound.
First up is Oz the Great and Powerful, which soon captivates me with its dwarves -- until Mr. Tourette next to me removes his shoes and socks. To my absolute astonishment, his feet are beautiful. I mean, how does one grow feet like that? They are aesthetically stunning. Has he never worn shoes in his life? Does he get foot massages morning and night? I am aghast at just how flawless they are.
Before I know it we're descending towards Beijing. I had hoped to contemplate the full breadth of the Pacific Ocean, but those feet make the 12 hours pass in an instant. I do have vague memories of other movies after Oz, the last of which is Skyfall. As we descend, we're in the soup. The "clouds" follow us all the way to the ground. Visibility on arrival is maybe 400 meters. It. Does. Not. Look. Healthy.
The Beijing airport is huge and modern, and only a little bit confusing. But one must walk what seems miles to complete the tour of activities required to gain entry. Just when it seems I'm done, I come to the "Please stand clear of the door the train is being delayed" train. I need to take it to Terminal 3, which is where you exit proper. I spend quite a while aboard the "Please stand clear of the door the train is being delayed" train with a lot of other people jockeying for position, and eventually it grows bored with sitting still and begins to move, eventually to reach the mythical Terminal 3.
Terminal 3 has arrows for taxis and buses, tantalizing evidence that the outdoors is imminent, and that's when I make a very wise decision. I hit a restroom. I'm not desperate and consider waiting until I reach the hotel, but am very glad I make the stop. Afterwards, I run the gauntlet at the exit, where a huge welcoming crowd does its best to obscure my view of a tiny sign with my name misspelled on it (Scranefly). Its bearer helps me with my minimal luggage, and soon I am joining Lee, a woman who won in the short film category, in a taxi.
The taxi driver is a talkative soul with a crude understanding of English. He points to cars slipping past on the berm and announces, "Illegal," time and again. Once he says (struggling with the pronunciation), "Ferrari," and yes, it is a bright red Ferrari zipping past on the berm.
Lee has come from Denver, which means she's been traveling by air a lot longer than me. She's held up just fine. But now she asks, sounding desperate, "How much further?" It turns out she is prone to car-sickness. It is rush hour, and we are in the traffic jam from hell. It will take us close to three hours to reach the hotel, and my bladder thanks me for making that stop. Lee asks if I'd mind if she opened the window for some fresh air. I tell her that's fine, but wonder how much fresh air she'll get. The smog is horrific, visibility still around 400 yards. She rolls down her window and soon has her head resting awkwardly half out. She looks sick as a dog, and I can't think of any way to help her. People in other cars and buses gape at her in close passing. I suspect she adds half an hour to our trip because our driver, in his jockeying, allows an extra three inches of clearance on her side so as not to behead her. Eventually it begins to drizzle, and this revives her a bit. We complete the three hour drive to the hotel without a major mishap.
Actually, we don't go directly to the hotel. Our first stop is the Beijing Film Academy. The short film winners are staying there, so that's where Lee will be getting off. Malinda our guide meets our taxi and has us both come inside to get something to eat in the cafeteria. Actually, it's called the Movie Story Theme Restaurant & Bar, and it proves problematic throughout the week, as orders take ages or are completely forgotten. An hour later we've eaten our fill, and I say bye to Lee and get in a taxi to head for the Park Plaza Hotel.
The check-in lady engages in a cruel game with me. She asks if I want smoking or nonsmoking. I tell her nonsmoking. She thumbs through her records, making little humming sounds, and after five minutes singsongs, "I'm sorry. We don't have any nonsmoking." So of course I agree to take a smoking room. I inquire about changing money, but she seems to suggest it would be better to wait until morning. I acquiesce, knowing an awkward moment is coming as the concierge helps me with my luggage. He demonstrates how the elevator requires my room key to work, and then introduces me to my hotel room with its eternally on TV. There is that awkward pause at completion, and then he leaves. I'll try tipping him later (though the opportunity never quite avails itself). I unpack, all the while wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into, and I set up Lady Cranefly's notebook and give the internet a spin. I had read that China's internet is faster than ours, but here at least it is absolutely horrible. When I bring up Skype, it tells me the connection speed is too slow to make a call. That persists throughout my stay. The TV is a steady blare. I try lowering the volume, but can't. I also fail at changing the channel. Neither the remote nor the controls on the TV have any affect. Incredibly, not even the off button will work on the remote or TV. I try various wall switches. Finally, with considerable effort, I work the power plug out of the TV itself. Silence and blankness at last. (Later I learn that everyone else staying at the hotel has to do the same thing.)
I go to bed.