Getting to Hangzhou

In the Shanghai train station, I prepared the family for the train boarding madness. I had to coach my Mom in particular; “Don’t be nice” I told her, “look out for number one---that’s you.” We were at a slight disadvantage with four large suitcases, which some men in blue shirts may or may not have been trying to help us check. I was reluctant to let go of the luggage because I didn’t understand what they were telling me. I informed the family of my lack of understanding and they agreed it was better not to risk the nightmare of losing our bargain-price souvenirs and knock-off designer bags acquired in Shanghai.

We stood with a growing crowd between two long aisles of chairs, feet planted and ready to push through with the crowd once boarding began. Our seats were assigned; urgency lay in the need to find overhead space for the luggage.
If it sounds to you like we were being pushy, you are correct.

Waiting in a line to board would mean that all the passengers would have to have some faith in each other’s commitment to such line. But because we-the-mob can’t be sure everyone will commit, we-the-mob decide to pass through the turn-style as the mob. Perhaps, observed from above, we look like little molecules trying to escape through the neck of a bottle, all pushing on each other until one bursts through and then another and then another. The harder we push on those around us, the sooner it will be our turn to burst through the opening.

Once boarding began, we each fought our tendency to give way and pushed. With great success, we were among the first on the train. After stowing our bags, we took our seats and set up our little picnic of snacks. We watched as the train filled up, pleased that we could avoid the ensuing congestion. Several minutes later, a group of passengers paused near our seats. They looked from their tickets to the seat numbers to us and back to the tickets. I produced one of our tickets and a helpful onlooker gestured to the stairs, pointing out the little character on my ticket that meant we were “up”.

We gathered our snacks and guidebooks, went upstairs, floundered through a trade negotiation so that we could all sit together, took our new seats, and began to unpack again. Just as we began munching on crackers, another man appeared looking pretty confident that I was in his seat. I was slightly confused and completely arrested by my inability to explain that I had traded for this seat with a man who was now drifting off to sleep in my original seat.

I gave the seat to its actual ticket holder, stood up and leaned against the side of Jake’s seat. Not 30 seconds passed before the man who was drifting off jumped up and gestured that I take his seat (my original seat), most probably explaining that he actually had a standing room only ticket. And not 10 seconds after I sat down across the aisle from the family, the man now sitting with them offered to trade with me. At last, I was seated back with the family and the snacks.

Any amount of musical chairs would have been worth it. Just look at the place. You can see why the Chinese call Hangzhou “Heaven on Earth”.