Close Calls

In my life, I’ve had many close calls. What I mean by close calls is I was faced with a problem about which I wasn’t sure I’d have a successful outcome. These types of experiences can be very stressful. Nevertheless, I believe it is during these times that we grow the most. It is a chance for us to find out what we are made of. In this narrative, I’d like to tell you a story about one of my close calls.

The year was 2012, I had just finished my first ESL job teaching in Sri Lanka. A week before my contract finished, I started applying for jobs all over Asia. China was the first one to respond. The process went fairly quickly. I did a Skype interview and three weeks later I was on a plane to Shanghai, China. I was so excited. I was going to a new country.

I arrived in China in December of 2012. From Shanghai, I took a train to Hangzhou, where I was going to live for the next year. The principal of the school met me at the train station and took me to the apartment I would be staying in. I remember how cold it was. The heater in my apartment was broken. The first night there I wore three sweaters, two pairs of shorts, and jogging pants. I also wrapped myself up in two blankets. In spite of all this, I was still freezing. My frozen body didn’t change anything. I was on an adventure. I felt amazing.

I woke up the next day extremely hungry. After getting dressed and heading downstairs, I stopped at the first restaurant I saw. No one spoke English, and all the menus were in Chinese. I had to act out a chicken for them to understand that I wanted anything with chicken in it. I laughed internally at the ridiculousness of it all. It turned out to be a delicious meal.

I started working that same day. I was teaching children between the ages of 3–18. That day, I met other Americans who seemed very cool and ended up becoming some of my best friends. At the time, I was there on a tourist visa. It’s very common for companies to have people first go there on tourist visas. I’m not sure whether it’s because it saves them money, or they want to see how well a person performs before actually going through the process of getting them on a work visa. I’m inclined to think it’s because of the first reason.

About three weeks after arriving in Hangzhou, they told me that I needed to go to Hong Kong in order to get my work visa. This was news to me. I didn’t have a lot of money. I had had to buy my own ticket to China and had used my savings to survive for the first month. To make matters worse, they expected me to cover the cost of going to Hong Kong as well. They promised to reimburse me for it at the end of the year. I had about $600. I figured that was enough.

That night, I went online and booked my flight and hotel. That was when I realized how much of a close call it would actually be. Still, I trusted that I would make it through. The round trip flight and hotel for two days cost me about $460. I did some research on how much it would cost for the visa. It would cost a little over $100. That left me with less than $40 to survive for two days in a new city. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer.

The Thursday I was to fly came quickly. Because Hong Kong is considered a separate country from China, I had to fly to its neighboring city, Shenzhen. I flew to Shenzhen, mind you, almost nobody spoke English there and all the signs were in Chinese. I had a pocket dictionary, but it just didn’t work well. I figured it would be easier to communicate with gestures. I made guttural sounds and pointed at my tickets to communicate with people. Amazingly, I was able to find my way to the bus station beside the airport that would take me to Hong Kong. It was about 9 pm.

I got on the bus, absolutely exhausted. I thought to myself, “Thank God… Soon, I’ll be in my hotel, on my bed.” We traveled through the winding streets for about fifteen minutes before we came upon a huge building in the middle of the road. The bus pulled in and everyone started getting off. The bus driver pointed at me and said something in Chinese. It was obvious he was telling me to get off, so I did.

While following the Chinese people I shared the bus ride with into the building, I realized we were at the border and we had to go through a security checkpoint. Inside the building, there were two lines. One was for Chinese people and the other was for foreigners. I got in the latter. There was a British couple ahead of me, and they were having a heated discussion with the border security guard.

I noticed the other line moving really quickly. All the Chinese people that had been on the bus with me simply held up their passports and passed by the security without question. As I waited, the Chinese line got shorter and shorter. I started to panic because I feared the bus wouldn’t wait for me.

Finally, the British couple was allowed to pass. I walked up to the security desk and a Chinese officer looked at me with interest.

“Where you go?” he asked.

I replied, “To the embassy to get my work visa.”

He looked at me, still interested, “Where you from?”

“I’m from The United States.” By this time the Chinese line was gone.

“You like China food?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, but I need to go. I’m in a rush.” I said hurriedly.

He continued to ask me a barrage of irrelevant questions. I feel like he just wanted to practice his English with me. After about five grueling minutes, I was finally allowed to pass through.

As I exited out the back door of the building, I started running towards the mass of buses about 100 feet away. As if to mock me, my bus was just leaving. I ran as fast as I could, yelling and waving my hands in the air. The bus didn’t stop for me. I stood there tired and defeated. It was about 10:30 pm.

I walked back to the security desk and tried to explain that I had gotten left behind. They told me to wait, and that another bus would arrive shortly. Three long hours went by, and finally, a bus arrived. I got on the bus and it took me into the city.

It was a quick 30-minute drive into the city. I sat in an empty bus. As we were driving through the city, I walked up to the driver and showed him a piece of paper which had the address and name of the hotel I was staying. Whether he understood or not, I still don’t know. Eventually, he stopped and motioned for me to get out, so I did.

There weren’t many people on the streets at that time. I walked up to every person I saw, none of whom spoke English.

Finally, I found someone who did. A kind and generous soul. He walked with me all the way to my hotel. It was about a 20-minute walk. When we got there, I thanked him.

The path leading to my hotel was narrow, between two tall buildings. I entered what looked to be a filthy large doggy door. I climbed some steep steps and followed a dirty hallway around to a small front desk area. Behind the desk was a small older Chinese man. It was about 1:30 am.

“Hi, I’d like to check into my room,” I said as I showed him a piece of paper with my hotel reservation on it.

“No, too late, give more money!” the man yelled at me.

“What do you mean give more money? I’ve already paid for my room and the money was subtracted from my account.”

“No, you want sleep you give more money now!!” the aggressive old geezer screamed.

“Look, please.. I’ve had a really long and hard night. Please, PLEASE! I just want to sleep.” I said.

“I fucking kill you!!” the old man said as he came around the counter, wide eyed with his fists clenched.

“Don’t you even think about touching me, or I’ll have to beat you up. PLEASE, just give me my room.” I pleaded.

He turned back around, not because he was scared but probably because his whole tough guy act was just a ruse to get more money, walked back behind the counter mumbling curses in Chinese all the while. He picked up some keys, chucked them at me, and pointed at a door a few steps away.

“Tomorrow you give money!!” he yelled as I slammed the door shut behind me.

I knew I had to be up early the next day to go to the embassy. I didn’t even bother taking a shower or changing. I fell asleep, fully clothed.

It felt like I had just fallen asleep when my alarm clock went off. It was Friday morning. It was hard for me to believe that only a day ago, I had been in Hangzhou. So much had happened.

I took a shower and got ready. I left my suitcase in the room, locked the door, then ventured out. Walking around the city and finding the embassy was enjoyable. I loved the energy of the city. It was so busy. So many different races. It truly is an international city.

I dropped off my American passport at the embassy and paid for the service. I had about 200 RMB ($30) left on me. They told me that my passport would be ready for pickup Sunday morning, 2 days away, and also the day of my flight. My flight back to Hangzhou was at 12 pm Sunday. “Another close call,” I thought to myself.

I walked around the city and bought some cheap bread to eat. The subway system was confusing for me yet I still found it exhilarating. I made my way back to my hotel.

When I arrived at the hotel, I walked up to my door, put the key in and tried to unlock it. It wouldn’t unlock. “What the hell?” I thought to myself.

I immediately went to the front desk, and the old man told me that he had moved me into a smaller room, a smaller room with no bathroom. I was so tired that I didn’t even have the energy to argue.

I went to my new room and opened the door. It was tiny. I could almost touch both walls with my arms outstretched. The room was bare, nothing in it but a simple bed. I took out my bread, ate it, then fell asleep frustrated and stressed out.

The next day, I woke up and went outside to buy more bread because it was all I could afford; Hong Kong is a very expensive city. After walking around for 30 minutes, I returned to my room. I had no energy or desire to even explore. I didn’t do anything that whole Saturday but lay on my bed and sleep. It was an uneventful day. I was so mad at the front desk man.

Later in the evening, I decided that it was pointless to stay mad. I walked out of my room and went to the front desk. I looked at the old man and summoned all the compassion I had. I wondered to myself what kind of life this old man had. What difficulties he could have possibly faced.

I told him I was sorry for the misunderstanding and went around the counter and gave him a hug. To my surprise, he returned the hug and said sorry too. I’ll never forget how good I felt after that. I walked back to my room and slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

The next day, I returned to the embassy. It was about 9:30 am when I got there. There was a long line at the front door that wrapped around the building. I stood in the line and waited. It took over an hour to get the whole process completed.

At around 11 am, I was standing outside of the embassy ready to go to the airport. My flight was leaving in one hour. I realized that there was no way I’d make it if I took the subway.

I pulled out my wallet and checked how much money I had. I had exactly 100 RMB. I took a chance and flagged down the first taxi I saw. When I got in, I showed him my ticket and he understood what I was saying.

The driver drove as if his life depended on it. He ran red lights and swerved through traffic. The whole time, I kept my eyes on the meter.

We were making good time but the meter kept getting closer to 100 RMB. As the airport came into sight, the meter passed 100 RMB. By the time we got to the airport, it was at about 115 RMB.

We pulled up to the front of the airport. I looked at him apologetically and said, “I’m so sorry for this,” as I pulled out the 100 RMB bill. He said, “Ok, ok..” and shooed me away.

The kindness he showed me will always be engraved in my heart. It was about 11:50 am and I thought my luck had run out as I stood in the security line outside of the airport.

An American man walked out of the airport and yelled, “Is anyone here for the flight to Hangzhou at 12:00 pm?” Ecstatic I screamed, “Here!” He allowed me to cut the line and literally ran beside me to my gate.

When I boarded the plane, all the other passengers had already been seated. I was literally the last person on the plane. As soon as I sat down, the plane started moving, and that was the end of my adventure.

I’m sure many people would think that my trip had been a terrible experience yet I wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world. Now that I look back on it, I can honestly say that it was one of the best experiences of my life.

This is just one example of a time when I barely made it. A close call. I believe that these types of experiences make us better people. Facing adversity and hardships build character.