Deadbolts and Red Wine

Ugh. Sunday past midnight, and the elevators drop me off on the seventh floor. Good day but I'm beat. Just a quick turn of the key, and there will be about 30 minutes of DVD until I crash. But...

There's two deadbolt locks on the door, and I've only got a key for one. No problem. The roommate is inside. Remember? Had a glass of red wine with him before I left, three hours ago, remember? He just probably locked the wrong bolt, the one we agreed we would never use.

Just ring the doorbell. He'll be up in a second -- maybe a little bleary-eyed -- but he'll be there. Ding-Ding. Wait. One more Ding-Dong. More wait.

Fine. The house is three stories tall, and he's asleep. Call his phone. Yeah, that's it. Hmm... no answer. Call him again. Hmmm. How about sending a message - Dear *%#@$*! No response. Repeat the process for about 30 minutes, and one begins to think the red wine has a stronger pull than the cell phone or doorbell.

I look at the stubborn door in front of me. It ain't so tough. Break the deadbolt, could you? Tempting, but no. Damn, I'm getting tired. It's 1am, technically Monday. Who you gunna call? Three messages folks who might be dumb enough to let you in. What about the ex-? Call her? Mmmm... maybe not.

One return call. It's my friend, Friend. I explain the situation. "I am sorry but I can't help you," says Friend, "but what will you do? Can you go to a hotel?"

I say, "My passport is in my room. Can't rent a hotel room without a passport. I could just wait here in the hallway until tomorrow morning. Or, like in the old days, I could just go out for a long, long night on the town. But there's something different about it when you know you can't come back until the next morning.”

Or, worse case scenario, there's an internet cafe by my house. You know for 10rmb you can sleep there all night. (I've seen it done.)

A few more knocks on the door and phone calls Roommate. It's now 1:30am. Time to go downstairs. Time to try out the ol' Zhongwen. There's a blue-overcoated security guard, about 50, working as doorman. I say Ni hao. He Ni hao's me back.

I know the word for "key" is something like 'jian'. Or is that "lock?" The word for door is 'men', and open, 'kai'. So start by telling him I can't 'kai' my 'men'. But how do you explain, "Well, you see there's two deadbolts..."

The doorman has seen me several times before, so he knows I've been living here about two weeks. That established, I seem to be able to ask him if he can open the door, but he cannot. This little exchange took about 15 minutes. Finally, another resident walks in the lobby. The doorman and he quickly talk, then the resident comes at me with "What's the problem?"

Briefly, I explain everything. "Did you call your roommate?" asks the resident. Oh yeah, I also explain the red wine. "Ahh..." he says. "Can you get a hotel?" Uh yes, I explain the passport.

Very quickly, the Resident and Doorman exchange words: Blah. Something. Shenme. Blah. Bananna. Bicycle. France. Blah.

Resident: He can help you.
Doorman: (Nod).

Doorman and I leave the lobby, in to the crisp, cold courtyard. Nice night for a walk. We pass the guardhouse. Other guards poke their heads out. Eh? they say.

Doorman and I go to the corner, turn right. Hotel? I ask. Yes, he says. We round the corner and see a hotel sign, but neither of us can find the door. We see a small alley, with a gate. Enter. It's a narrow alley. Bags of garbage on the ground. Single security door with small window at the end. Uh... nice place. Doorman goes BANG BANG BANG on the door. Then, BANG BANG BANG.

Girl in a uniform answers, confused. What? she says. Guard says something like, “Can this waiguoren stay here without a passport? I understand enough from the girls tone to tell what she says: "This is a McDonalds!"

Whoops. Me and Doorman laugh. Close security door. Back past the bags of trash, and to the street. Oh, it must be the next gate. Yes, there is a hotel there. The girl inside that place says "we are full" or "all the desk staff are sleeping". Either way, we're on the road again.

I point in the distance. "Nali you bingguan." Doorman seems to agree. He is in a pleasant and helpful mood. I say to him, "I very happy you help me." He, "No problem," with a smile. Sincerely. As if he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather be doing.

It's cold at... lets see... 2:10am. Glad I have my heavier coat on. Here it is, the bing guan. Nice place. What'll this cost me? Doorman and I enter, and he talks to the woman behind the desk. I still don't know what they're saying, but it goes like this:
Doorman: Please let this foreigner stay here.
Desk Clerk: OK. Does he have a passport?
Doorman: No.
Desk Clerk: Then, no.
Doorman: Please?
Desk Clerk: Still no.

I go to the lobby and I sit down in a leather chair. (Hey, this is comfortable. Wonder if I can just sleep right here? My sources say No.) Doorman comes back from the desk, smiles, calm. "Deng yi xia."

So I'm deng'ing quite a long xia. I think of all the stupid words I don't know how to say: passport, lock, unregistered alien. It's times like this I really wonder, What am I doing in China? Right about then, a police car pulls up.

How do you say, "Please release me from your Chinese prison?"

Two officers walk in with Doorman. I feel it prudent to stand as they enter. They walk up to Desk Clerk. It goes something like this:
Officer 1: Plese let this wayward waiguoren stay here.
Desk Clerk: Can you give me your badge number? (yes, that's what she said.)

Badge numbers are written on a sheet of paper. Doorman is also required to put his name down. And you sign here, Mr. Jimbo. Money for deposit. Key-card given, plus two vouchers in case I want to eat breakfast tomorrow. Signed, sealed, delivered, and I'm in.

Doorman starts to leave.
Me: "Very happy you help me." Seriously. Play out this scenario in New York City.
He: No problem, and smiles.
Me: You have what name?
He, "Li Chen .... something..." Dang, I'm tired.
Me: Li Xiansheng, thank you.
He: Tomorrow, you tell your friend!!!

Upstairs, door, shower. 10 minutes of CCTV, and I'm out.

My cell phone rings. Sun is up. It's Roommate. "Oh really, really sorry dude. Just come back whenever you're ready!" I snooze. Wake up. No comb and hair like a rooster. Exit hotel, walk down street with rooster hair and my undergarments rolled up in a bunch underarm. Enter my apartment courtyard and a different guard sees me. I don't know him, but he stops and waves. Great, now I'm a celebrity. Enter the elevator, and I fall down laughing. Hit the seventh floor, and exit. Try the knob. Still locked??? BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Roommate: "Coming, Cooooooming!" Door opens. "SOOO sorry dude."
Me: Not to be rude, but I've had a night.
Roommate: "Yeah! Yeah. You're taking it a lot cooler than I would have. Hey, I hope it makes up in part -- I made some coffee. Straight from Italy! Want some?

I shuffle in the door. Mmmm... Coffee...