I woke up too early. 5:30 am to be exact. It was Monday morning, and I was headed to the airport in Beijing to catch my flight back to Korea. After having checking out and finding that I owed another six Yuan, not a good hotel choice, I was in a bit of a bad mood, but happy to be leaving Beijing. I headed to the main street. During my stay I had always seen lots of taxis on the main street, and so I headed there to catch one.
Only one problem. There weren’t any taxis. There weren’t even any cars at all. I waited for about ten minutes. One taxi went by, but it was full. So I decided I better walk to a bigger intersection, where hopefully there would be more taxis. No. I waited another twenty minutes, and two more taxis passed full. One empty taxi showed up, but someone on the other side of the street got into it. I was beginning to regret not having the hotel call me a taxi. Worse still, I was beginning to run out of time, if I was going to make my flight. Luckily I had given myself a good three and a half hours before my flight was supposed to leave.
Finally a taxi appeared and I was able to get in it. After some awful attempts at communicating with the driver and some airplane gestures with my arms, we headed to the airport. The ride took about 30 minutes and then we were at the terminal. I checked the meter on the center console, 61 Yuan. I handed the taxi driver a 50 and 20 Yuan note. Then before I could stop him he reached over and grabbed another 20 Yuan note! I was beginning to get really angry. He had the audacity to give me back one Yuan in change!
I was thinking, “excuse me?!” The taxi driver became upset at this point, blabbering on in Chinese and gesturing at the meter. But I calmly told him in English, and by counting on my fingers that he owed me twenty-nine Yuan. Then he showed me this “parking ticket” that said in Chinese and English, among other languages, that according to law riders must pay the ten Yuan parking fee. Okay, that brought my total to 71 Yuan, and he had taken, literally, 90 Yuan from my hands.
Then he looked at me like, “what?”
Obviously I want my change. What, do you think I just enjoy your company?
He gave me another five Yuan. At this point I lost it, and began arguing with him and demanding more change. He also became very angry and started yelling back at me! This went on for a couple minutes, before I finally realized I wouldn’t be able to win, and needed to get out of the taxi.
I was in a really bad mood and couldn’t wait to get out of China. So I stormed into the terminal after asking God to place copious amounts of nails, glass and tacks, on the road he was about to travel. After the red had cleared from my vision I realized that my flight was not listed on any of the check in counters. In fact there were no international flights listed on any of the counters. I quickly found information and asked what the deal was.
I was at the wrong terminal I was told. This was the domestic terminal. I needed to go to a different terminal. The worker was able to give me directions. Go downstairs and catch the shuttle bus to the other terminal. So I headed downstairs.
I found the correct number and waited for the bus. My flight was now only about an hour and a half from take off and I still hadn’t even arrived at the terminal. After about five minutes there was still no bus. I was getting nervous. Across the road were some taxis. I thought about taking one. The taxi drivers must have seen me and realized what I was thinking. Three of them came over and asked me where I was going, upon finding out, they said they could take me for 30 Yuan!
You got to be kidding! Just to the nearby terminal? At this point I had had it with all taxi drivers in China. And I thought it best to ignore them, but they are annoying. They began saying that the bus only came once every hour, even though the sign said otherwise. Still…the bus had not shown up. I was in trouble, running out of time, and way too stubborn to get in a taxi. But the sign said the bus should arrive on the quarter hour, so I decided to wait it out. I put in my headphones to drown out the never ending sales pitch of Taxi McGee.
Thankfully the bus did come on time. I smiled at the taxi drivers and got on the bus. I thought when I was told “terminal” that the international one would be close by, in the same airport. No. The bus ride left the airport grounds I had been at, got on a freeway, and fifteen minutes later I was at the correct international terminal.
Then another thought struck my mind and left my vision blurred, once again, with anger. The taxi driver had picked up an obvious foreigner and taken him to the domestic airport, I refuse to say domestic terminal, because the buildings were so far apart as to clearly be separate airports! What are the odds a foreigner is going to travel domestically inside China? Clearly he had had fun taken advantage of me!
I rushed through check-in, security, and arrived at my gate as they were doing the boarding. I got on the plane and flopped down into my seat, the middle seat, glad to be moments away from leaving China. A mom and son sat on either side of me. A man, the husband, was standing in the isle talking to a flight attendant.
“Great! China has double booked my seat,” I thought to myself while digging for my boarding pass. “Will this never end?”
Turned out the man had a business class seat he was willing to trade with me so that he could sit with his family. I practically knocked him over jumping out of my seat and scrambling into my new business class seat before something else could go wrong. Nothing did. The flight attendant asked if I wanted a drink. I sure did. Business class is a great way to travel. It almost made me forget about the taxi driver.
Almost.
A Chinese Taxi Driver Waiting for Passengers
Through My Canon's Eye 