The Final Name Audit

Now that my tenure as a corporate desk monkey in China has drawn to a close, I look back upon all the happy memories. The good times, the bad times, the disastrous times, and even those times where I yearned to be freed from this hell, ending my misery with a sweet, sweet death brought upon by plunging chopsticks into my brain via my vulnerable ear canals.

Above all, I will miss my local colleagues, those creative wonders with fantastical names plucked straight out of my high school English teacher's darkest nightmares. Such baffling appellations can only be described as a cultural phenomenon. If not for these special people, I would never have had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take an elevator ride with Demon, sit on a bus beside Yahoo, or get a customer service request from Viking. These are blessings from God.

But now my heart is heavy. Over these many years charting the course of name evolution, we stand here today in a time and age where Apple and Bear receive nary a chuckle. What kind of world do we live in where I can't even get a laugh at the expense of someone named Rainy or Linko?

Like our jaded millennial society, so extreme and unfazable, we have no other option but to get hardcore. Nobody cares about naming yourself after fruit (unless you choose Banana, tee-hee!) or a random woodland creature (can we get a Weasel up in this mofo, please?) anymore. The challenge now is choosing a name that will really stick out. Like Mouthwash or Whisker (I've yet to see these in use, so you can consider it my gift to any of you out there with a baby on the way. Congrats.).

So let us join hands and take one final trip into the wilds of Chinese English names, to remember the good times passed and pray for the future of our planet, a world where Fish walk, Bacon talks, Alien makes contact and Gandhi (indeed) lives again.

[Editor's note: It goes without saying, a (sic) should be assumed next to every one of these babies. I vouch that every one of these names belongs, or belonged, to a real employee at our company at one point during my duration of employment from 2004 to 2010. You really could not make this shit up. Believe me, I've tried. My imagination fails me.]

Welcome To The Jungle

The last time we took a peek into the twisted minds of these crazy name people, it was 2008. Since then, we've welcomed a few new superstars, some of which take the cake for sheer audacity and balls. To wit:

Gandhi.

This guy is a fucking legend. I would have been satisfied with a Motherteresa, Martinlutherkingjunior or some other such untouchable humanitarian. Maybe Bono. But this? Us mere mortals should commend this genius for accepting nothing less than Gandhi.

I approve.

Keeping in line with iconic dead guys, we also have a pair of Elvises and a Christ, which aren't that outrageous. But how about naming yourself JOHN DENVER? (John Denver Zhang, to be exact.) Inspired.

Stealing names from the deceased can be a noble way to honor those that have passed. Naming yourself after living or fictional characters is also bundles of fun. Whether plucked from mythology, television or sports, this is simple hero worship.

We've got the baller-loving Kobe. The one-two double punch of Keanu/Neo. Also the inexplicable Seinfeld fan, Kramer.

In all his Technicolor Glory

Maybe some of these folks like their mythology a bit too much (I can't blame them). Like our buddies Christ and Lucifer, this may be a little sacrilegious:

Jove, Adonis (who is this guy kidding???), Atlas, Apollo, Titan, Triton, Odin

In fact, poring through the web of names year after year after year, one pattern is quite clear: many people, like those hero-worshipers above, pick names bearing qualities and characteristics that they would like to have. Something to aim for, an ideal to capture, a way to be. Something to inspire them to be even better. The Wish Listers.

Courage, Fancy (and his archnemesis, Fancyer), Wish, Lean, Perpetual (aiming for immortality here), Power, Pretty, Super, Keeper, Sweety, Hansome, Midas, Loyal and, a personal fave, Man Li.

The past couple years have also seen a spike in confused ethnicities. In the beginning, the only confusion stemmed from reading the pinyin "Juan" as the more familiar Spanish pronunciation (made even more confusing by our buddies named "Huan"). But now we've got a whole slew of wannabe Romantics.

The Spaghetti Lovers: Angelo, Claudio, Adele, Marco, and Adriano (note, these are all local Chinese, not to be confused with our Euro/American friends with the same names.)
The Latin Lovers: Juan, Lopez, Luis, Raul, Yolanda (5 of 'em!) and Jorge

Not to be outdone, we also hired a genius whiteboy who chose a Chinese name no less ridiculous than these locals we've been ridiculing for the past few paragraphs. Taking one for the team, Yao Ming.

Sigh.

Then of course you've got the group on the bottom of the barrel. Perhaps they chose these names as a form of daily self-flagellation, a way to remind themselves they are meaningless dirt in this great universe, just a speck of nothing in the eyes of God, a symbol of our mortal foibles and warning of what not to become. Or they are simply in dire need of some Prozac. These are some of my all-time favorites.

Coma, Burden, Insomnia, Odd, Freaky, Crazy, Peyton, Demon, Simple, Stuck, Tiny, Hermit, Boredom, Worm, Scud

My buddy Worm (coincidentally also the nickname of one of my real life childhood pals) has got a whole zoo-load of friends in the animal department, which has always been a crowd pleaser. There's just something special about dialing an extension and asking for Piggy, Pony, Penguin or Rabbit, as if a magical talking creature were on the other end of the line. Like in a Disney movie (we've got a Disney too, just so you know. And a Walt)... a really sad and depressing Disney movie where the protagonist's soul is crushed by corporate bureaucracy (shout outs to Simba and Nemo).

As for fruits (Apple, Cherry), it's just cute. This is the realm of the ladies, who want to feel like adorable little dolls, naming themselves something sweet. But what about the rest of the edibles? These names are, excuse me, good enough to eat.

Celery, Chocolate, Kiwi.

Yum.

Now that you've put the kids to bed, we can get a little freaky deekay. The teenage boy within me will never, ever grow up, so I salute these comrades for choosing names that never fail to make me quietly guffaw to myself (God help me if I have to ask for one of these people on the phone...), as I sit at this computer screen scrolling through bullshit names for your reading pleasure.

Pipi, Cream, Semon (THREE OF THEM), Swallow, Juicy, Winkie, Dick Gu, Dick Yu (get it? Dick you! oh man, never gets old!), Titi

Of course, as a soon-to-be New York Times bestselling author, my favorite names also include those that, in the proper context, would seem mundane and boring. But when you take an adverb, gerund or a preposition and slap it in front of a Wang or a Zhang, it becomes comic gold for the bookworm set, like Wondering, Rising, and Feeling.

Another personal favorite are the THINGS. The names plucked from a random list of nouns. These might be nicknames for folks overseas, but here, we address emails to professional clients with these names. I am considering following suit and changing my name to Scarf (or Stock, lol).

Limit, Mallet, Hammer, Meteor, Money, Piano, Shoulder, Skin (bleagh!), Sniper, Soul

Since everyone and their mamma is going green these days, let's salute this bunch for doing their part for Mother Earth:

Cloud, Thunder, Tree, Soil, Wind, Snow, Sleet, Sunrise, Moonlight, Sky (a whopping 22!!!), Twig

I'll wrap things up with the perennial favorites. The WTF?!? Batch, The Spellcheck All-Stars, and then the failed Lord of the Rings characters. I will forever remember these jokers.

Huwk, Jick, Leer, Leging, Luger, Mysality, Phase-Change, Purp, Sonic, Turble, Uzid, Vigoss, Weickham, Yeedith, Zephylos, Zoro, Giggs, Keyinfour, King Kong, Linkevinse, Sbean, Winkle


Unexpected Thoughts and Reflection

When I did my last audit in 2008, I was flabbergasted to discover the most Chinesiest of all names, the formidable China Wang (upstanding socialist brother to good old Russian Lai). He named himself after the entire motherland. Since then, he has been joined by other like-minded comrades, whose likely goal is to create an entire gang of Young National Chinese Superstars of the New Order. Who are these icons in the making?

Sino, head of the Ministry of Latin Prefixes.

Orient, head of the Ministry of Archaic References To The Motherland and Purveyor of Fine Carpets.

And my personal favorite, the cuddly Minister of Endangered National Mascots and Eye-Bag Concealing Cosmetics, PANDA.

I hereby submit my application to officially change my name to United States Yeung...

Moving along...

In the beginning, I would double over laughing like a kid in 5th grade peeking through the reproduction section of the biology textbook whenever I came into contact with Fantasy, Vanish or Pinky. I mean, who were these retards with the crazy names and how did they expect to be taken seriously? But aside from a small minority of us English-speakers who were in on this elaborate inside joke, almost all of our local colleagues never seemed to notice. To the Chinese, Juicy and Petros were just the English names that Wang Bing and Liu Li chose for the email directory and meetings with foreign customers.

After working with them for so long, I got to know many on a personal level. I had, after all, been working under a woman named after the period of the day between dawn and noon for almost 6 years (my dear Morning). The silly names became secondary and I didn't notice so much anymore (unless I came across any particularly heinous cases like Cuckoo or Gadfly...yeesh!). It was no longer a matter of working with some idiot who named himself after a kitchen utensil or landscaping feature, but rather, working with Oven from the IT department or helping Smile from Accounting carry a package to the mail room. In a way, instead of the name turning their respective owner into a joke, these folks made the names their own. And rather than focus on the name, I ultimately focused on the human it belonged to. *Cue sappy Lifetime music*

Don't get me wrong, I still get a kick out of fresh faces like Penguin, the short, chubby guy who actually wore black and white for his directory picture; Yao Ming, the white dude from our school who decided to throw his hat into the opposite cultural end of the Bad Name ring with that ridiculous choice of Chinese name; and T-Bag, the freak who either named himself after a pedophilic sociopath from the late Fox hit TV show, Prison Break, or his favorite oral sex activity (either way, both not very healthy). But it takes quite a bit of creativity to spark my interest after being exposed to this comedy for so long. It's a part of the scenery now.

Proof!!!

Thus after such an extended period of cowork and cohabitation with these mad name scientists, I can conclude that all things are relative, especially cultural norms and naming conventions. In a group with Heaven, Hebrew, and Hunkey, chances are I am actually the odd one out. After all, I'm the guy named after a past-his-prime crooner...


My Top 20 Super Best All-Star Hall of Fame

And now I present to you the best of the best of the six long years I've been wasting valuable company time scrolling through the directory:

20. Demon
19. Jock
18. Only
17. Odd (last name? Hung. Classic)
16. Superiority
15. Vagabond
14. Vanish
13. Fantasy
12. Rorry (ruh-roh! that good old Scooby Doo winner from 2007)

Ruh Roh!

11. Spawn
10. Buddy Ryan (the English alias, both first and last name, mind you, of one Mr. Ren Wan Chun)
9. Boredom
8. Insomnia
7. Coma (the Trinity of Depression!)
6. Hermit
5. T-Bag
4. Lucifer (I still don't know how THREE of these guys got past our old CEO)
3. Christ (had to put him up front, since it takes bigger cojones to name yourself after the Messiah)
2. Bigtree (not Big Tree, but Bigtree. and dude is TALL. Perfection)
1. Gandalf (Middle Earth meets Middle Kingdom. Oh. My. God.)

At no other time in my short, pitiful life will I ever have the extreme fortune to work in the same organization as the most badass wizard of ALL TIME. And for this I extend my deepest gratitude to the citizens of the People's Republic of China and their wacky ways.

Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!

Here in China, you can truly be whoever you want to be. You are only limited by your imagination.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anticlimactic Epilogue

Lest you think the entire nation is filled with silly names, take note: among the Canraders, Turbles, and Hooks, the bulk of our colleagues actually have stiflingly uncreative names.

A recent report estimated that 24 million single chaps in China won't get to experience the wonders of wedlock with a fellow Chinese lady (more than enough guys to pair up with, though). There just haven't been enough chicks born (and kept) for these poor bastards to mate with. It seems they've taken this dearth of selection and applied it to their name selection. Judging from my very small sample group at the company (10,000 employees out of a 1.3 billion populace is like 0.000000001%), there's a shortage of male names around here too.

On the far opposite end of the creativity scale, we've got these generic duds. With so many colorful options out there (as you have been reading above), why become yet another one of the faceless millions of Michael Wangs? Even yours truly is not immune: since 2004, when I had to share my name with only one other guy, an explosion of Neils has resulted in a whopping increase over 6 years. Now I've got to compete with thirteen others as of 2010! Whatever happened to strong names like Notebook and Papercup? Copycats, I tell ya....

Apologies beforehand if you happen to be the proud owner of one of these names below; you probably have some unknown Chinese relatives lurking on the family tree.

Kevin (99)
David (79)
Jack (74) (Not including Jacky, Jackson, Jackie, Jackey, of which we've got 61 additional, driving the total up to 135 and the First Place Prize over Kevin...)
Andy (67)
Jason (63)
Stephen (19), Steve (5), Steven (37), Stuphen (meh? 1) (62 overall)
Michael (60)
Tony (57)
Jerry (57... one is a woman, she was removed)
Eric (54)
Frank (50)
Alex (44)
Peter (43)
John (41)
Leo (39)
James (37)
Tom (31)
Daniel (30)
Chris 24 (+3 Christopher) (27 overall)

Jack, the ultimate All-American name, making waves in Shanghai. The rest of the list is filled with similarly classic English names. Surprising then to see Michael and James so far down the list.

The ladies can't even compete with the sheer number of the guys at this company. Like China, our company also seems to have a shocking lack of estrogen. I mean, there's only one Lauren, one Justine, one Margaret, one Natalie, two Stephanies, one Valerie. Most shocking is the nosedive in the figures. The women seem to be far more creative, with no name receiving more than 40 members in its exclusive club. Also, unlike the guys, some of these names are far from conservative.

Variations on "Ann(e)" come up the clear winner, but look below. Sunny, Cherry and Apple? Certainly a revolution in popular naming in our little microcosm.

Ann (7), Anna (14), Anne (6), Annie (11), Anny (6) (44 total)
Sunny (36)
Amy (36)
Jenny (28) (Jennifer? Only 9, making for 37 total and edging out Sunny and Amy)
Lucy (27)
Helen (26)
Jane (22)
Grace (21)
Cherry (19)
Apple (12)


[Editor's Note: Thank you everybody for the support and following the Name Audit from the very beginning!]

My Favorite Gigs of the Decade

We all know I'm a concert junkie. So compiling my favorite gigs of the past ten years was actually quite an undertaking. Although the volume of concerts I'm able to attend has been severely depleted due to current locale, magnitude and insanity have more than compensated for the lack of weekly concerts. Over 200 bands, spread throughout six countries, with a dear team of devoted and dedicated friends to share each experience. For me, music is life. And concerts are as important as school and church. Here's to another ten years of artist and fan interaction.

20. JJ Lin
Marathon Concert, December 23, 2006
Jiangwan Stadium, Shanghai, PRC

At this point in history, JJ Lin (Lin Jun Jie, 林俊杰) was my favorite Mandarin singer. When it was announced that he was included in a jaw-dropping "marathon" concert that included my favorite Taiwanese rock group F.I.R., up-and-coming boy band Fahrenheit, pop tarts Evonne Hsu and Wang Rong, and Taiwanese pop legend David Tao, my friends and I scrambled for tickets. The show was indeed a marathon, stretching from noon into the late hours of the freezing December night. Our accumulated excitement was ignited when JJ took the stage, culminating in some inspired insanity that involved a lot of blood-curdling screaming (us) and petrified stares (locals nearby). It didn't matter if we were the only people standing on our seats or making noise; waving glow sticks is not what we do at concerts. Much like the yearly events that American radio stations organize during the holidays, this was no less epic. Shanghai hasn't seen anything of this Mando-pop magnitude since.

Sorry ladies, show's over...

19. Mandy Moore
September 29, 2000
Eastern States Expo, Springfield, MA, USA

This show, which really wasn't a concert so much as a well-timed PR stunt to get Mandy Moore into the hearts and wallets of American teenagers, deserves special mention. Not only was it held in the center of a classic American fairground -- fried dough, candy apples and pony rides aplenty -- but out in the boonies of Western Massachusetts. It took some dedicated effort to convince my mate, who was much too gracious to say no to a potentially embarrassing situation. And what a situation it was. I don't even remember what songs she sang ("Candy" had to be in there), but when her set was complete, she was whisked off the stage into a nearby limousine. And as her car drove by, I thrust my camera into her backseat window and snapped a photo of her luscious blond locks. It was my finest paparazzi moment.

18. Rammstein
Mutter World Tour, July 18, 2001
Hammerstein Ballroom, New York, NY, USA

I drove down to New Jersey to join up with some college metalhead friends for the huge summer Rammstein gig in the city. When we got to the ballroom, we realized we forgot the tickets back in New Jersey. Thank god for parents. A couple years prior, I had seen them closer to home without any ticket mishaps, experiencing the full circus that is their famous live show, which included a ridiculous amount of pyro, flame throwers, laser beams, S&M weaponry and simulated sodomy with a gigantic, squirting dildo. My best friend got an unforgettable pop shot that night, something he won't soon forget. For this gig, things were different. Just as theatric, but with the bigger budget that comes with more success, the Rammstein show was transformed into a psychotic sci-fi laboratory that was more horror and doom than perversion and fake cocks. Pummeling us with mountains of riffs and irresistible melodies, the German techno metal monsters made Hammerstein shake. Ending the show with their cover of "Pet Semetary" (thank god for YouTube), an encore ensemble that included surviving members of the Ramones and one of the Misfits, it was an inspired melding past and present, Europe and America, punk and metal. After the show, we met Jerry Only (Misfits) in the parking lot. As the hulking demon in make-up drove away in a green Saturn station wagon, I had to quietly thank Rammstein for one of the most absurdly unforgettable evenings of my life.

17. American Hi-Fi
February 21, 2003
Webster Theater, Hartford, CT, USA

Crammed into the tiny Webster Theater in a quiet neighborhood in Hartford, a mixed group of Taiwanese and Japanese exchange students and a couple of us Americans enjoyed five bands for only $5 bucks. Though the show received the most buzz for being one of the first gigs that a young band called Evanescence would play after finding success with a song called "Bring Me To Life," my dearest memories are from the American Hi-Fi set. Front and center in the pit, we jumped and pushed and dodged crowd surfer boots and fists for the entire time, happy and carefree as we jammed to the simple pop-rock gems. I hoped that my foreign friends enjoyed their first American concert as much as I enjoyed sharing it with them.

UMass family, c. 2003

16. Oasis
Dig Out Your Soul World Tour, April 5, 2009
Singapore Indoor Stadium, Singapore

This gig is notable for extremes. Flying to Singapore (after the Shanghai show was canceled) to see not only one of the hugest bands on the planet, but also one of the bands on my "MUST SEE BEFORE DEATH" list. After hours of waiting in line, we rushed to the head of the floor section to secure positions mere rows from the stage. But as soon s the first chords of opener "Rock and Roll Star" blared through the speakers, things got a little hectic and I thought I was going to fulfill some sort of sick prophecy and DIE now that I had "seen" Oasis. The crowd was sick, nearing late '90s nu-metal proportions, and I almost got trampled to death. Escaping the scrum to the safety of the sidelines, I could enjoy the rest of the show like everyone else smart enough to have avoided the pit in the first place. But something wasn't right. The songs were there, the band was playing, but it wasn't what I had dreamt about. I'm glad I saw them before they broke up a few months later, but this show will be memorable not for how awesome it was, but for how disappointing. Perhaps it was my fault for building it up over almost 15 years of fandom. Or perhaps because Liam is a twat.

Yes, you, Liam. You are a twat.

We've Just Been Violated

15. Interpol
October 15, 2003
Hammerstein Ballroom, New York, NY, USA

Although I was alone, I thoroughly enjoyed this show. Perhaps because I was flying solo, it felt so different. After classes, I rushed downtown to join the mob of bandwagon hipsters that had descended upon the ballroom for Interpol's homecoming show. A year before, I had almost missed them in Boston because of a snowstorm, getting stuck in the back of the club as a penalty for being so late. This time, I was front and center. Though they were still touring their debut album, they blessed us with new tracks that would go on to become "Narc" and "Evil" from their sophomore effort, Antics. We were hearing them for the first time, before the world would subsequently dub them classics of the '00s indie decade.

14. Sasha
November 4, 2005
VIP Room, Shanghai, PRC

For a complete idea of why this show was so unforgettable, read here. Seeing him spin almost 3 years later, I could finally sweat through the complete sonic experience, which was an unforgettable workout. But nothing compares to the pounding surge of house beats in your ear drums as you spend a blood-soaked night in the emergency room.

13. Celine Dion
Taking Chances World Tour, April 11, 2008
Shanghai Stadium, Shanghai, PRC

I'll forgive the chuckles and derisive laughter now, as I stand by my assertion that Celine Dion puts on one of the best shows around. And it is purely due to her voice. Every song, every hit (you'd recognize more than you realize) was pitch perfect. I felt like I was listening to the radio. In such a cold and empty venue as Shanghai Stadium, her voice filled every corner, every empty seat and all of my aching heart. And don't even get me started on what happened when she whipped out the Titanic song. Even though we could barely see her from our seats in the back, we could hear her every note. And that was all that mattered.

Amazing seats...

12. The White Stripes
April 20, 2003
Orpheum Theater, Boston, MA, USA

High atop the rickety balcony of Boston's historic Orpheum Theater, my cousin and I shared one of our most unforgettable concert experiences with our favorite band (at that particular moment), the White Stripes. Though there were only two of them, they almost rocked the theater into a pile of rubble. Between Meg's laughable drumming and Jack White's insane guitar skills, the entire theater was bouncing up and down in unison. The balcony was actually moving under our feet. But the threat of death wasn't enough to distract me. The red-black-and-white duo on the small stage before us were worth the risk

11. Incubus
March 13, 2008
Yunfeng Theater, Shanghai, PRC

Usually, if a band member as important as the bassist falls ill, a group might cancel the gig. For their first ever concert in Shanghai, Incubus decided to forge ahead acoustic. Thus, in a chance twist of luck, we were treated to a unique and unforgettable show, an intimate and private audience with a severely underrated band. For one night, the band was ours. I had seen them with Deftones back in 2000, when every lush layer of the band could be fully appreciated. Yet I'll never forget the stripped down versions of my favorite songs, in Shanghai, of all places. Incubus, kinda unplugged, the most welcome surprise of my concert year.

10. Fucked Up
March 21, 2009
Logo Bar, Shanghai, PRC

This was one of the most disgusting shows I've ever been to. Not only was it held in the dankest and filthiest "club" in all of Shanghai (seriously, this place smells like an unwashed jock strap), but the air conditioner was weak and the crowd was soaked through with foul sweat and spilled whisky. It felt like an old fashioned basement show. To top it off, Fucked Up's lead singer, the charming Pink Eyes, is a massive beast of a man that perspires like a champ. And he was wearing nothing but underwear. Oh and the PA was busted. But I'm seldom fortunate enough to be at the center of something so visceral, primitive and raw. The band was spilling off the low stage into the audience, standing at the same level as the freaks in the pit. At one point, they stopped and asked for a song request. I had the feeling I was one of the few actual fans in the house (no offense, posers), so I screamed out my choice as loud as I could. Pink Eyes looked at me and smiled, then the band launched into "Crooked Head." That, and meeting him after the show, totally made my night.

Yes, I Just Lost My Lunch, Too

9. The Rolling Stones
A Bigger Bang World Tour, April 8, 2006
Shanghai Grand Stage, Shanghai, PRC

Shanghai has seen its fair share of mega icons pass through the city in recent years (Eric Clapton, James Brown, Obama), but the arrival of the Rolling Stones received a mix reaction. Would Keith Richards be able to smuggle his drugs through customs? Would they even live to see that concert date? Would locals pay such high prices to see a gang of decrepit sacks of bones play outdated classic rock? Our group of American youngsters could only afford nosebleed seats, actually filling out the very last row at the back. So when a Stones roadie came up to collect bodies to fill the embarrassingly empty sections near the front of the stage, we couldn't believe our luck. From a vantage point that would have made Mick and the boys about an inch tall, we were thrust into spots where we could actually see the thousands of collective wrinkles on stage before us. Even though they were all pushing 70, they put on such a high caliber show that would put younger bands to shame. Mick writhed like a horny snake and had more hypersexual energy in his tiny frame than a basketball team at an away game. Rollicking through hit after monster hit, we could barely contain ourselves. I almost tore the seats out of the floor in a primal rage, fully taken over like a wild man by this balls out rock and roll. After the concert, we spilled into the Shanghai night singing Stones tunes at tops of our lungs, stretching our battered throats to the limits. We didn't want that feeling to ever go away.

Ni hao, Mr. Jagger

8. Faithless
Yue Festival, October 5, 2007
Zhongshan Park, Shanghai, PRC

On a clear autumn night in downtown Shanghai, lights from surrounding skyscrapers illuminating the heavens, Faithless headlined a modest little festival held in a grassy clearing at the center of one of the city's biggest public parks. From the front rows, my friends and I danced away to a thumping mix of throbbing, old-fashioned UK house fronted by the bald and gangly Maxi Jazz. Like a mad preacher, he turned that field into a straight tent revival, connecting to the crowd in glorious unity, especially on their biggest hit, "God is a DJ" ("This is my church, this is where I heal my hurts... tonight, God is a DJ"). However it wasn't until they closed the set with "We Come 1" that I understood the unifying power of their music. The drunken Brits stopped picking fights, the slobbering exchange students put down their drinks, the ambivalent locals stopped talking over the music. With everyone in the crowd jumping up and down, fingers raised in the air, joined by the music in that brief span of time, I felt so much joy my heart wanted to explode. A glorious revelation to restore faith to anyone.

7. Dave Matthews Band
September 24, 2003
Central Park, New York, NY, USA

Skipping grad classes and office work for the afternoon, my friends and I waited for over an hour on Central Park West with throngs of other fans eager to get a spot at the front of the Great Lawn for this historic show, which would prove to be DMB's biggest audience ever. Tickets for this AOL-sponsored benefit were free, but you had to win them. To win them, you had to first find random AOL folks on the streets of the city and try your luck by pulling tickets from a stack of potential duds. Luckily, after days of coordinated efforts and loitering on street corners, we cobbled together enough tickets and were set for history. From start to finish, the nearly three-hour marathon was a non-stop jam of hits, covers (here and here) and special guests (Warren Haynes of the Allman Brothers and Mayor Bloomberg). This wasn't hippie bullshit, but one of the tightest rock and roll bands in the world. Not since Woodstock '99 had I been at the front of a crowd so massive. Fortunately there were no fires and destruction here, just the biggest block party the city saw that year.

Perfect NYC Night

DMB Can Do No Wrong

6. Radiohead/Bat For Lashes
June 25, 2008
Victoria Park, London, UK

As if seeing Radiohead in a giant field in southern London were not sweet enough, you top it off with an opening slot by Bat For Lashes and it is the 2-for-1 deal of the year. Nestled at the center of an amazing trip to England and Scotland, the sold-out gig was the second of a two-night, hometown residency, part of a summer European tour showcasing Radiohead's recent album, In Rainbows, which they played in its entirety. Of the two nights, we were the ones that got "Paranoid Android", for which I am eternally grateful to the universe. But to be honest, the most religious moment for me came during Bat For Lashes set. Awash in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, the wind blowing Natasha Khan's robes and hair, the strains of her electric medieval tunes floated over the crowd like a potent spell. For a moment, I was transported to a land of knights and unicorns, which, as ridiculous as that sounds, sticks in the mind more than getting moshed to death by hyperactive OK Computer fans.

Goodbye, Radiohead

Natasha Khan, Bat For Lashes

5. Coldplay
Viva La Vida World Tour, February 14, 2009
Kobe Kinen World Hall, Kobe, Japan

The lead up to this show was too much to handle. After waiting almost a year to witness the Viva La Vida monster, the day was finally upon us. In Japan, near Osaka (Kobe) and on Valentine's Day, no less. The day was unforgettable, but the show itself was epic. Even though our seats were further away than we had hoped, it was every bit the religious experience we had prayed for. Swarms of butterflies, the famous "Yellow" balls, huge singalongs and joyous dancing in the aisles. Would it have been any better from the floor? Maybe. But it was good enough all the same without having to wonder about what ifs.

4. nine inch nails
Fragility v2.0 Tour, May 3, 2000
Providence Civic Center, Providence, RI, USA

The first time you see your favorite musician, one of two things can happen. You will have either built up the experience so much in your little head that it all comes crashing down when it doesn't live up to the hype, leaving you so disappointed you want to kill yourself onstage in front of the audience, or, it is a mind-bending revelation. After devoting over six years of my aural life to this band, I finally got to see the famous recluse and his misfit band of marauding musicians on their first tour in over three years. A large group of us went, all die hards, many of whom had been waiting ages to get this first taste. As the first notes of openers A Perfect Circle filled the darkened arena, we made a mad dash from the stands, over the barricade, and onto the floor. Diving past meat-headed security guards, we broke into the mosh pit like a prison break in reverse. One guard managed to get his meaty fingers around my arm, but I squirmed free and was lost in the crowd. God bless those tiny biceps. The rest of the show was spent in front of bassist Danny Lohner, ex-NIN bassist who looks remarkably like Brad Pitt. Though we had all been separated by the heaving wave of stinky bodies in the pit, I was content to experience this on my own, just me and the band. Come to think of it, though I enjoyed the performance, the overall experience was something so much more, which will probably be one of those things I recount to my kids over and over again until they tell me to stop.

3. Muse
Spirit of Taiwan Festival, February 28, 2007
Chung Shan Stadium, Taipei, ROC

Of all places, Muse decided to include Taiwan on its Black Holes and Revelations tour, which was cemented into history with the HAARP concert recorded at Wembley. And we were eternally grateful for this. Even stranger, they were the headliners for this Taiwan Pride event backed by Ah-Bian and the DPP. So extremely random. After a string of unknown local and foreign talent, Muse took the stage and I lost my fucking mind. I almost fainted during the first song from expending all of myself. To my delight, the local fans were more subdued, so I didn't have to worry about being moshed to death. They are rock superheroes and, that night, I felt just as confident, strong and powerful.

2. Coldplay
Twisted Logic Tour, July 10, 2006
Singapore Indoor Stadium, Singapore

Taking the first of what would become many international concert trips, my friend and I proved we were dedicated (and crazy) Coldplay fans, flying all the way to Singapore for a taste of our favorite band. Waiting for hours in the disgusting humidity of the Singaporean summer just to get a spot at the front, we were successful and enjoyed a perfect, sweat-soaked night. The pure joy and elation at the center of that massive sing-a-long was ineffable. We were so close Chris Martin could drip on us. When all was said and done, we were completely dried out by sweat and tears. Italy even won the World Cup. It was a perfect weekend.

The Suckers Stuck Behind Us

Unplugged Time

Count The Chris Martins

Pop Goes The "Yellow" Balloon

1. nine inch nails
Beijing Pop Festival, September 9, 2007
Chaoyang Park, Beijing, PRC

Of all my collective memories from the hundreds of concerts I've had the honor of attending over the years, this show is one of the most special. The Beijing Pop Festival, one of the most eclectic line-ups ever. Over two days, a mixed crowd of local and expat rock fans tasted the raw power of the Ramones (what's left of them, that is), the classic sleaze of New York Dolls, my first rap obsession Public Enemy, China's own Springsteen, Cui Jian, and the headlining spot by my favorite band in the world, nine inch nails. When they came to the stage after sunset to the cool evening air, the entire crowd was still. The sky was black, there was no wind, and the collective energy of the audience was focused squarely on stage. From the opening chords of "The Beginning of the End" to the standard closer "Hurt," I sung along to every.single.word. Screaming, thrashing, head banging and losing myself in the thrill. Standing on a metal barricade a third of the way into the crowd, I leaned above everyone, the highest point in the audience save for the band. It was me and NIN. Revelers behind me be damned (thanks for your understanding, guys), I stayed perched above everybody for the entire show. Afterward, my shins were bruised, my knees were scratched, and I could not talk. I was dizzy and high from the pure power of that music. My amazing concert partner regretted not recording some footage of my complete loss of mental stability, but some things are best left to the memory banks. I will never forget that show for as long as I live.

Me, Alicia and The 2nd Craziest NIN Fan In Attendance

The best of the rest: No Doubt, Metallica, Deftones, Marilyn Manson (2000); Aerosmith, Depeche Mode, Bjork, Tori Amos, System of a Down, Slipknot, Poe, Coldplay, The Cranberries (2001); Tool, Sheryl Crow, Queens of the Stone Age, Paul McCartney, The Strokes, Shakira (2002); The Donnas, Juliana Theory, The Datsuns, Brian Wilson, Blur, David Bowie, R.E.M., Wyclef Jean, Jet, The Darkness (2003); Hoobastank, P.O.D., Linkin Park (2004); The Start, Jay Chou, Paul Van Dyk (2005); Backstreet Boys, U2, Maximo Park (2006); The Roots, Ayumi Hamasaki, Christina Aguilera (2007); Club 8, Bjork, Kanye West, Franz Ferdinand, Jay Chou (2008); Jose Gonzalez, Neil Diamond (2009)

And now, to balance out all of that feel-good bubblegum joy, I give you my FAILS of the Decade:

10. The Raveonettes (March 6, 2003) Avalon Ballroom, Boston, MA, USA
Opening for Interpol, we missed them because of a snow storm. I may never get over it.

9. Black Eyed Peas (June 22, 2000) Fleetboston Pavilion, Boston, MA, USA
Opening for No Doubt on the Return of Saturn tour, this was when they still made backpack "conscious" rap music, before blowing up with Fergie.

8. Pink/Lenny Kravitz (July 20, 2002) Tweeter Center, Mansfield, MA, USA
Lenny got sick and, instead of treating the fans who had sat in the sun all afternoon to a quick set, Pink decided she'd sit it out too, the lazy trollop. To their credit, they rescheduled and ticket holders could take another crack at it. But I was busy. Too bad.

7. Alanis Morrissette (December 3, 2001) Fleetcenter, Boston, MA, USA
For this headlining set, poor Alanis got sick. Instead of bailing, she joined Barenaked Ladies onstage for a couple BNL renditions of her hits. The night wasn't a total loss. In fact, it was a stunner because a couple little bands kicked off the show in style: Coldplay and The Cranberries.

6. Eric Clapton (January 20, 2007) Shanghai Grand Stage, Shanghai, PRC
Shoulda gone. I even wrote a piece on it. When he dies, I'm so going to regret this.

5. Beyonce (November 5, 2007) Shanghai Grand Stage, Shanghai, PRC
WHY did I not go to this? Granted, we hadn't yet been introduced to Sasha Fierce, but to see those monumental thighs shaking to "Crazy In Love" would have been worth the ticket price alone.

4. Maroon 5 (March 22, 2008) Shanghai International Gymnastic Center, Shanghai, PRC
Little did I know that a year later I'd be hooked on their album, It Won't Be Soon Before Long. I even escorted my friends to the venue after a pre-concert dinner. Sigh.

3. Coldplay (June 16, 2008) Brixton Academy, London, UK
This failure was epic. Read about it here.

2. Nine Inch Nails (August 12, 2009) Nankang 101, Taipei, ROC
Originally slated to be their last concert ever (as if), it then became their last Asian show "ever." And as luck would have it, the promoters failed to get things set up in time and the band had to cancel a couple days before the show. We should have gone to Singapore for an epic three night jaw-dropper with NIN, Keane, and Lady Gaga.

And all that could have been...

1. Kylie Minogue (November 28, 2008) Hongkou Soccer Stadium
After waiting almost a decade to see my pop diva love, she decided to stop by Shanghai a week after I had to leave the country for a home trip. I kicked myself for that early plane ticket for months afterward. Thanksgiving could have waited.

Until 2019, keep on hippin', hoppin', rockin', rollin', groovin' and, of course, jumping.

Burger Wang

(Or, Junked Meat and Coronaries)

Today I nearly killed myself. It all started a couple weeks ago, when advertisements for the new Burger King specials began popping up around local subway stations. Riding the trendy Year-Of-The-Ox wave of the punny use "niu" -- homophone for "cow" and the slang for "cool" -- BK unveiled a line of burgers in China that I can only assume was aimed solely at causing heart attacks. They call them the BK Stackers.

One "niu" (just a boring old "cool" stacker single) gets you a regular bacon cheeseburger. No harm there.

Two "niu" (the "hen niu"/"very niu" stacker double) results in a double cheeseburger.

Three "niu" (the "chao niu"/"super niu" stacker triple) is a mammoth triple combo that could sate the hungriest of hungry Jacks.

So far, nothing out of the ordinary. It's the final option that is so perverse I just couldn't pass up the challenge: the mondo quadruple-bacon-cheeseburger, a sandwich so hefty it requires a detachable jaw just to take a real bite.

All hail "bao niu", the aptly titled "explosive niu" (Stacker Quad), King of the Coronary: four flame grilled beef patties topped with four slices of cheese, bacon, mayo and barbecue sauce. Depending on your persuasion, you are either salivating right now or reaching for your nearest trash bucket that may or may not catch your vomit in time.

According to the nutrition index, the quad is 8.8 ounces of goodness (that's over half a pound, if you're keeping track). Perhaps the Chinese thought those lucky 8's were worth the caloric onslaught. Clocking in at 1010 calories, 70g of fat, 30g of sat fat, 3g of trans fat, 210 mg of cholesterol, and 1800mg of sodium, I'm just glad I'm reading about these facts AFTER consuming this evil, evil thing.

Before I ordered the burger, I wondered whether french fries were necessary. Logic told me that I didn't need any further intake of awful, unhealthy doom to exacerbate the day's quota for Things-That-Could-Kill-Me-In-10-Years-Or-So. But I knew I'd get sick of the taste of chopped up, discarded beef bits. So I went with the meal for 42 RMB (single quadro-burger is only 31 RMB) and a whopping total of 1780 calories, which is way over my recommended daily caloric intake. When the BK girl asked if I wanted to super size, I shot her a quizzical look and asked her "Are you serious?" She giggled and entered the standard "Medium" size for my fries and Coke.

And then she smiled and pointed to the glowing advert on the overhead menu. "Your meal also comes with a free sundae! Which flavor would you like? Strawberry or Chocolate?" I inadvertently scrunched my face up in a disgusted quiver. The thought of Crisco-based soft serve with high fructose pink topping almost made me hurl the breath mint that I had downed a few minutes earlier in preparation for the lunchtime onslaught. I politely waved at her, "No thanks, I don't need it." She replied with an urgent, "But it's FREE..." Brushing aside my manners, I just laughed at her and said "Are you crazy? I don't even know if I can finish that burger! I'll pass, thanks." She just shrugged as if it were my loss. My arteries breathed a sigh of relief.

Behold!

Hunkering down at the table, I lifted that holy burger with two hands and watched as the steaming patties glistened with dripping fatty oil, shiny yellow cheese and those flaccid strips of pink, fatty bacon. The smell was intoxicating. Furtively peeking at the people around me, I noticed no one else had the balls to take on this gigantic beast. Lightweights. I opened my mouth and went in for the kill. I admit I felt a little naughty.

Yes, it is the size of my fist. Lord on high!

The first bite was bliss. As my teeth sunk through four burger's worth of processed flesh and an assortment of toppings that would make my primary care physician blush, I could actually hear the squish of the layers condensing in my mouth, entering my mouth in a heap of unbridled goodness. Somewhere out there, I swear I could hear a vegan crying.

Wow, Would you look at that!

Midway through, it started to get a little challenging. I had conducted a similar experiment in December 2008, tackling a triple burger at Wendy's, which I swore would be my last foray into Extreme Burger Sports. My better judgment was laughing at me now. Staring into the heart of this behemoth, I wanted to stop eating, just put down the wretched thing and cut my losses, thus saving myself further guilt and a few kilometers on the treadmill. But I am not a quitter. Taking another bite, my eyes began to well with tears.

It's rough, so, so rough...

With a few bites left, food coma had already begun to set in. Guilt and regret followed the queasiness. I cried out for my mommy to come and save me, but there was no help here. The only way to end the pain was to finish it once and for all.

Totally gonna hurl~

When I was finished, I handed my tray to a smiling BK worker and sheepishly crept away in shame, as if I had just done something extremely heinous, like whacking off into someone's sundae or accidently crapping myself at the table. Walking out of the restaurant (can we even call it that?), I hung my head low and made my way to the subway station.

After that damn burger, I had enough protein in my belly to make a hooker jealous. For a second time in ten months, I make a half-hearted vow never to do it again, no matter how attractive an advertisement for a heart attack on a sesame seed bun may look at the time. For those in the West that fear China will eventually take over the world, you can take heart in knowing that the USA will get the last laugh. If the popularity of this monster burger is any indication, American fast food will see Chinese obesity rates spike and heart disease and clogged arteries should start killing off the Red Threat within the decade. Nothing "niu" about that.

Xinjiangren

(Or, Prejudice and Picked Pockets)

Her eyes were the color of ice. Set into her long, angular face, they were cold, blue and almost crystal clear. She didn't look anything like the child strapped to her chest with a strip of fabric. The infant, a drooling little fat Chinese baby, clutched to the woman, his expressionless face resting against her bosom. They stood out quite clearly in the crowd of commuters at the Shanghai Railway Station.

Behind them, a taller and more masculine female followed closely, briskly shuffling at the heels of the younger woman with the icy eyes. They were covered in a faint layer of dust and dirt, but they moved with a hurried, focused swiftness. The intensity in their eyes was disturbingly frightening. The poor guy walking in front of them couldn't even see them coming.

The cheeseburger waited in my hand, but I didn't take a bite. I stared out the window, mouth agape. The girl with the blue eyes unzipped the outer pocket of this guy's laptop bag, foolishly slung behind the clueless man's back. Delicately extracting her prize with slender fingers, she stuffed it into the crevice between her stomach and the baby's, turned on her heels and immediately hustled in the opposite direction, the mannish woman following closely behind. It was over in a matter of seconds, so fast that I spun around to the tables around me, eyes begging to connect with someone else who had just saw what happened. A pair of older aunties at the table next to me shook their heads with crooked smiles and simply muttered, "Those Xinjiang people..."

It was not my first time witnessing a pickpocket in action. However this was the most fluid execution I had ever seen, so efficient that I was actually a little hesitant to go outside when my burger was done. But what struck me the most was the way the aunties dismissed the whole affair, as if it were perfectly normal for that Xinjiang woman to be a thief. The city is filled with local Han Chinese thieves, but no one seems to notice. These folks from Xinjiang have an especially bad reputation in China.

The Xinjiang Autonomous Region is located at the northwestern quadrant of China, a massive area larger than the size of South Africa, with a population almost double that of Greece. Bordering Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India to the West and Russia to the North, it is symbolic as a significant segment of the ancient Silk Road. Most people here -- the Uighurs -- look distinctly different from the Han Chinese, with fairer Eurasian features that are more akin to the neighboring 'Stans and Middle Eastern brethren, and most are Muslim. Much like its politically hyper-sensitive Himalayan neighbor to the south, this region is highly disputed and a volatile flashpoint that makes headlines fairly often, especially whenever the Chinese government wishes to add a little more fire to the already negative reputation the general Chinese populace hold towards Xinjiang people. Today, the deliberate influx of Han Chinese threatens to squeeze out the indigenous cultures and efforts by the government are also aimed at Han-ifying the area, thereby erasing as much of Xinjiang's culture as possible. Without harming the lucrative tourist trade, of course.

As early as the Han Dynasty (60 BC), the Han Chinese have staked their claim to the area. As any student of Chinese history can attest to, keeping track of the dynastic changes is challenging enough; tracing the dealings of each dynasty and the Xinjiang area is equally complicated. Feel free to read all about it in your free time, for I have neither the energy or qualifications to do it justice here.

In Shanghai, observers have the opportunity to see the fallout of this cultural conflict with their own eyes. To be fair, there are a lot of Xinjiang thieves. But there are also swarms of Chinese ones too. They just blend in better. The locals brush these outsiders off as barbarians from the North who are only here to thieve and grill up delicious lamb skewers at street-side barbecue stalls. In recent news, accusations of AIDS-filled syringe attacks have further fueled prejudice against these migrants.

Last year at the fake market, I was in the midst of a hard bargain session with a shop boss who was trying to swindle me with an absurd price inflation for a few crappy paintings. I was in no mood, so I gave her my final offer, which cut her starting offer by almost 90%. She laughed at me, so I walked away toward another stall. In typical fashion, she chased after me as I left, waving me back in to her store, the universal sign for "OK I give up, you have a deal." As she wrapped up my purchases, she asked me where I was from. Cutting to the chase, I told her I was mixed: dad Chinese, mom American. She scoffed at me and said with a dismissive sneer, "Your father must be from Xinjiang then," implying that my shrewd bargaining was attributed to the assumed genetics of a thieving and tricky race. After correcting her ("Daddy is a money-hungry Hong Konger, duh..."), I wanted to smack her on behalf of my non-thieving Xinjiang brethren.

Back in Burger King, I looked at the two aunties sitting next to me. I asked, "Did you just see that?" and they nodded in affirmation. They probably took one look at me and wondered whether I was in on the swindle too. Finishing my meal, I continued to chat with my buddy who was sitting across from me. The pickpocket tag team appeared again, closing in on yet another hapless victim. My friend got up and walked outside, ever the American hero. Standing on the sidewalk, he waited. When the ladies came back our way, he stared them down with determined eyes, psychically instilling whatever message of justice that happened to be swirling in his brain. The younger girl furrowed her brow, visibly disturbed by my friend's gaze. The older lady just smiled at him.

Red Pill, Blue Pill

(Or, (Likely) Adventures in Shanghai Dealing)

Usually when I see a black guy in China, I get a little excited. Perhaps it's for nostalgia's sake, reminiscing of my homeland and the daily interaction with various, chocolate-hued folk. It could also be a subconscious longing for my little brothers, as if by exchanging a glance or a kind word to these fellow foreigners-in-China, I am also sending a small bit of love back home. Therefore, it was strangely soothing -- after a long day of work and long night of moonlighting -- to see a black dude standing beside me, waiting for the subway to pull in. When the train arrived, we stepped on together.

Without an empty seat to rest my weary ass, I leaned against the doors and turned my iPod up to drown out the noise. Twelve stops to go before I reached home.

Eyes shut, about to doze off, I felt a tapping on my shoulder. My friend from the platform was standing next to me, already clear past the comfortable border of my bubble space. I could smell that familiar nicotine and cocoa butter scent that I knew so well from days gone by. He gently pulled the earbud out of my head and smiled.

"Do you speak English?" he asked in a thick African accent.

Still bewildered -- I usually expect this type of upfront behavior from locals looking to make fast English language-exchange friends, not black guys in flat-rimmed baseball caps -- I nodded and smiled. He passed over a red Nokia mobile phone, clearly the cheapest of the cheap, probably about 200 RMB at Carrefour and cheaper if it was second-hand (trust me, I know: I own a cheapo shit brick myself). If The Wire has taught me anything, it was that this phone was very, very disposable, if you know what I mean.

"Can you tell me what does this mean?"

The message read: "Don't use the word love so much. You don't use the word love with a complete stranger! Don't ever call me again!"

Awkward.

I instinctively puckered my lips and cocked an eyebrow, mulling over my options. This was going to require a lot of tact.

"Umm, this girl, she, uh... she doesn't want you to call her. You know? No calling. She said do not use the word love. You just met her, eh? Well if you like her, you will still call whatever she says. But she said do not call her."

He looked confused. "Do not call her?"

"Yes. She said do not call her. But you gonna anyway, eh?"

I was just trying to mask my anxiety with a little humor defense mechanism, nervously laughing to an invisible crowd. Bitches, they straight crazy! He just smiled and nodded. Persistent. If that girl was any bit smart, she'd change her number.

At this point, he was almost leaning against me. The swaying of the train didn't do much to help. A few younger local folks were staring at us, likely transfixed by the ebony and ivory exchange that they'd only seen in Hollywood buddy cop movies. My friend hadn't said a word in a few seconds, so I hoped he was finished with the uncomfortable exchange. Then he reached into the pocket of his loose denim and pulled out another beat-up Nokia, an identical model to the first, except this one was blue.

"Read this one."

I took a deep breath. Should I be charging him for my services? Not only do I get annoyed by being bothered by complete strangers, I also don't like when my precious "me" time is ruined unexpectedly. But I didn't want to be rude. Or murdered. The fact that his eyes were literally bugging and he looked a little cracked out didn't do much to ease my nerves. The dry, ashy skin around his chapped lips, yellowed fingernails, and milky white eyeballs were familiar. I'd seen faces like this many, many times before, so I thought it best to just be a polite little boy and help the nice man.

This message read: "I got the good stuff. Don't reply with messages." It was signed "Your good friend."

I was pretty sure what the "good stuff" referred to, so I tried my best to play it cool.

"Hmm... This says that 'he' has some good stuff" -- at which point I gave him the wink-wink-I-can-be-trusted-don't-kill-me face -- "and you should call. Do not send message. Call."

I wagged my fist near my head, extending my pinky and thumb toward my mouth and ear, respectively, in the universal 'phone' motion. Just in case my English wasn't clear enough.

He looked puzzled, like a puppy. "So I should call? No message?"

"Yes, call."

Pushing the red Nokia into my hand, he politely asked, "You type message for me. 'I have the good stuff. Don't message. Your good friend.' You type." Apparently my hand signal wasn't clear enough.

I looked around, half expecting a narc team to swing through the windows and arrest me for being an accomplice to a potential drug deal, until I realized that we were barreling through the Shanghai underground at top speed. Glancing around, I decided that the ladies in sheer-panty-ankle-socks and guys flicking the airline business cards posed no viable threat to my life outside of Chinese prison. I quickly entered the message and passed the phone back to him. A guy sitting on the seat across from me had been staring at us the entire time. I gave him a weak smile and raised my eyebrows. What else was I supposed to do? I had always heard that the Nigerians were the big suppliers in China -- one was supposedly even murdered recently outside a bar by the local cops in a drug bust gone awry -- but I didn't realize it wasn't just an assumed stereotype. This was just ridiculous.

At the next station, my friend looked at me and said "My stop." I breathed a sigh of relief as he alighted the train. Best of luck to that girl he's after and whoever was on the receiving end of the "good stuff." Now I know what expats in Shanghai refer to when they say they are in the import/export business.