Flim Flammed by the Commies
Trip Start
Dec 2007
1
32
41
Trip End
Aug 2008
Beijing,
China
Monday, February 25, 2008
I don't know why, but I have to say, I'm a little nervous. I'm really sure why, but I'm uneasy all day on Sunday and don't sleep well the night before. My appointment is at 10 am at the very official sounding, Beijing Exit and Entry Administration of Public Security Bureau. A young woman named Mao will meet me to help me with my interview. I supposed to meet her at 10 am at window 29 on the second floor. Not knowing how long it might take to get to the Bureau, I decide to give myself a good hour to get there. I arrive in about 4 minutes. I decide that I'll check out the building, find Window 29 and then go take a walk around until 10 am. I find the building and am genuinely shocked at the appearance of the place. For you Americans out there, let me just describe this building and then tell it is anything like any governmental office you have ever visited anywhere in the 50 States. Brushed marble entryway, leads to copper stairs that jut out in a very Scarlett O'Hara manner, which leads up a series of steps that take you to two sets of escalators. These escalators take you to the second story where the walls are lined with information desks, each spelling out there duties and the name of the person working there at the time. In the center of the room is an information desk and person who speaks not only English and Chinese, but I overheard at least 3 or 4 other languages...many I couldn't place from my language frames of reference. On either side of the escalators are places to fill out forms, and people to help you fill out the forms, and then rows and rows of soft comfortable seating...facing 60 inch plasma television sets showing the morning news. There are free coffee kiosks and complimentary bottles of waters and Pepsi products. I'm sure that reminds you of the local DMV or Social Security office you last visited right?
Even after walking around the surrounding area for about 30 minutes, I'm still early, so I sit down and engage in one of my favorite pastimes...people watching. The place is crowded but is very orderly and relaxed. I see many different foreign people, and many different degrees of appearance, attitude and wealth. The first person I see is a very tall, very blonde, very surgically enhanced (can I say that...) woman. She looks like Pamela Anderson before hair and make-up. She has a stack of papers and a very business-like Chinese assistant who is translating furiously at one of the windows. The blonde woman removes her Mink fur full-length coat, folds it over one arm and then taps the toes of her knee length 4 heel black boots, obviously not happy. I turn my gaze to another window where a young African man is standing in full on Gansta Rappa gear, except that he too is wearing a full length fur. It is clear that his might be a little fuller and even more expensive than Blondie's at Window 13. He is very friendly and speaks fluent Mandarin. All of the clerks and officials are smiling and blushing a little as the guy speaks with them... I instantly assume he is the P-Diddy of Central China, but who knows. On the opposite extreme stands a tall blonde European guy who is arguing with someone who is either is lawyer/representative or his girlfriend, either way things didn't go his way at his window. They are speaking some language I can't place (Swedish, perhaps?) but I get the idea that he was probably saying, "You said it was just a formality... What do you mean denied? Now what am I going to do?" Something like that. There are Chinese people there with their suitcases with them, like they are either going to are coming directly from the airport with whatever documents they need to get straightened out here. There are other ex-pats staring at the window waiting for their translators and it appears some people who just came to watch TV.
I check my watch to see it is 9:58, so I get up and walk over to Window 29, and stand there. I scan the room for people coming up the elevators, people whose eyes are darting about in search of another...and although there are many people streaming up the moving stairways, no looks like they are looking for someone else. At 10:02, I decide to call. I get a Chinese speaking voice, and I introduce myself. I explain I'm at the appointed window but perhaps I got my information wrong. The voice on the other end says about 15 words in Chinese and then hangs up. I can't even hang up my phone before a young girl comes from behind me and says, "Ree-Chard?" I turn around and see that Ms. Mao has already begun my "interview." In fact, she holds about 35 envelopes of information for other clients and mine is one of about 9 or 10 that are spread out on the counter. She says two things to me, "Sit...Passport." I do the first, and hand her the other. She then pushes a paper in front of me. I don't know what it is, or if I'm supposed to take it or sign it or just look at it. I don't do any of those initially, and look around for someone to tell me what to do. She points at a line and I sign, and then she gives the form to the official. The official takes my passport, my stack of papers and that single signed document that she stamps several times with different red pads, and turns to give the whole mess to an assistant who walks back through some double doors. I sit there for a second and then Ms. Mao says, "Okay, you go home now."
I am like, "What?" I thought I was getting my passport stamped or something, I am not prepared to leave without it. I try to explain this, but everyone has already dismissed me, and they are off to next person from the pile. I have this instant feeling of being that guy on 42nd street in New York City who just got the 3 Card Monty pulled on him by some smooth operator outside the Marriott Marquis. I'm standing there trying to figure out what just happened to my 20 bucks, while the City that Never Sleeps blows right past me. I'm supposed to get my passport back soon...and the pea is supposed to be under the shell to the right. It doesn't always work out that way...I'll let you know.
