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the ugly americans

it started only after we'd enjoyed such a gorgeous day, roaming around hong kong under 20 degree blue skies with just the slightest perfect breeze. we'd taken the escalator all the way up through soho and then walked down to the zoo (where the aviary is closed due to wild birds being found dead within 3 km of it, encouraging), and finally over to the peak tram. we got claudia (who is afraid of heights) all the way up the rickety tram, which is a trolley car filled with people and pulled up the side of victoria peak. at times, the grade is so steep you are almost horizontal and the car nearly vertical. we mulled around the peak, taking photos and killing time to watch the sunset over the hazy waters of the south china sea, and then hung around even longer to get photos of the skyline at night. we people watched, we nationality guessed, we relaxed.

later, we stand in the semi-long line for the return tram ride (which goes backwards, by the way), and are finally ushered onto the platform for the arriving tram. once on the platform, everyone kind of smushes down and in to get a better seat on the old, wooden benches inside. the crowd gets a little pushy, although having been on the mainland so long, it's a relief that anyone queues at all here. and for the record, i don't think hong kong people just queue a little, i think they queue exceptionally well. this becomes important in a second. we three girls, trained from our lengthy stint in the mainland, are poised with our elbows up and our bags in front. although we are no longer bigger than everyone else is, we have one advantage, and that is our ability to get through a pulsating, pushing, shoving mass of people. the tram enters the station, the doors open, everyone rushes in. i grab a seat by the window, claudia (who needs to sit), gets a seat on another bench, and anastasia opts to stand after coming in a few seconds later and finding no seat.
between anastasia and i, an older couple had entered the tram. the woman sits next to me, and the man stands next to her in the aisle. she has puffed up red hair and wears bad leisure clothing - khaki trousers, nike athletic shoes, and a shirt with gold and bronze colored 1980s print and shoulder pads that nearly touch me when she sits down next to me. she has a huffy attitude to go with her puffy hair.

"this is just ridiculous," her midwestern accent shoots through her nose as she clearly speaks in a decibel intended to force everyone around her to hear. this woman is most definitely from illinois or indiana. "first ones in line and YOU should not be standing." the husband agrees. i'm pretending not to hear her while actually listening intently to every word. i completely loathe this woman and i want every reason to hate her more, so i hope she speaks up.
"really. i mean all that PUSHING and that SHOVING. these people are So. Rude. ughhh," she huffs. the husband agrees again. i try to hide a giggle.
"the SMELL on some of these people doesn't help, either. they can afford this tram trip you'd think they could afford a bath that worked."

now, here let me just say that i do not condone the pushing and shoving that goes on. i have learned to live with it. i have become accustomed to it. i partake in it because you HAVE to if you ever want to get a seat on the bus. i learned the hard way one time during my silk road trip last year. it was my first time buying chinese bus tickets and there was one window open and a mob of about 43 chinese men (all smoking) in a pulsating group trying to push their way to the front. at that time, i was demure. i figured they'd see me, a cute sweet innocent foreign girl and have mercy. i figured they'd let me through if i was patient. that one of them would see me standing there helplessly, looking lost and unsure, and explain me to the rest of the mob. look at this poor girl. c'mon mates, let her through.. i missed my bus that day, but not before i finally bucked up and used my strong laowai arms and massive rucksack to my advantage. ever since that day, i have been a pro at securing tickets. i even got tickets in beijing station the last week of august holiday. i screamed at an entire line of people to let me through because my friend didn't speak chinese. it even garnered a laugh and i felt glorious. but the truth is, i hate the pushing and shoving. it would be so much NICER if people just waited their turn.

but for a brief moment, as that horrible woman's suburbian chicago dialect resounded through the tram, her nose stuck so far in the air she could probably kiss god's ass, the only thought in my head was

survival of the fittest, lady.

i wanted to relish the pushers and shovers. i wanted to make fun of her in chinese with all the mainlanders around me. if she'd said another word, i would've gone off on her in a major diatribe about how she should just go the fuck home and why did she bother leaving her cookie cutter suburban home and her massive brown buick. she'd be so much happier there anyway. just please, leave the rest of us in peace. we don't want you here, lady.

after the 8-minute tram ride, i decided to get over it. i decided not to judge all americans by this one lady. after all, i am american. we're not all bad, right? i decided i'd better not be my uppity self, and just get on with life. we're in hong kong, after all.

so we go to soho where there is a decent little mexican restaurant. i was craving a margarita and they have tasty tacos and excellent guacamole (this, coming from a native new mexican, is something). we sit down in there and notice three youngish girls at the table next to us. luckily we're at the back, but this place isn't very big and you can basically hear every conversation going in the whole joint. they aren't more than 16 and they straight out of LA. one is wearing braces. all we get are snippets of their conversations about homework and taking the metro. later, stasi and i wondered if they actually lived in hong kong.

girl A is wearing a black shirt and she's tall and pretty and acts like she knows it all. girl B is demurer and dirty blonde, and girl C has curly brown hair and wears braces. girl A is clearly the leader of the pack. she makes comments about not caring because it's all her parents' money anyway, so what does it matter. she boasts knowing the entire hong kong metro system and assures girl B that there will be no problem to get wherever they are planning to go. leader girl A says well that's what so great about being american. you can go anywhere in the world. i mean, just anywhere.. i'm thinking, yes girlie, you are the only one with that privilege. finally, they are ready to pay the check, just in time for us to puke listening to their snotty rich kid chat. they boss around the server (who is also the chef and the bartender in this place) and tell her they want 10s in change, and when the server says they have no tens, they say well how about TWENTIES, have you got THOSE? and then they parade out with their prada purses and their tommy hilfiger diapers.

i tell stasi well, they're young. and yes, it's true. but the truer matter is that someone had to raise snots like that and someone had to turn them loose on the world. but i just sip my margarita and wait for the tacos to arrive and thank god that i am not one of the ugly americans. and that's something.

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