Pretty Woman Spitting: An American's Travels in China by Leanna Adams

Author:Leanna Adams [Adams, Leanna]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Chinese Culture, Travel, Traveling in China, Leanna Adams, China, Teaching in China, Travelogue, ESL, Memoir, Teaching English
Publisher: Leanna Adams
Published: 2012-01-19T05:00:00+00:00

BUMPER CARS

The mayhem of a crowded Chinese intersection – where people weave in and out of traffic, bang into other cars and use roadsides as lanes – reminded me of crazed middle-schoolers in a bumper car rink.

I was eight years old the first time I ever got into a bumper car at an amusement park. My family had gone to the Spartanburg Spring Fling. I was so nervous my hands were shaking. My older sister, Jennifer, was in another car coaxing me to drive. She whizzed around with her black, curly hair flying, unafraid of the onslaught of tiny cars and vicious pre-pubescent youth that seemed possessed. I was terrified and stayed in the middle of the rink looking around wildly until I was suddenly thrown forward by a boy with spiky blonde hair and a long rat-tail curling around his neck like a snake. He had a demonic grin. He kept pounding me with his little, green, electric car until mine was pushed up to the side of the track. I kept trying to move, but before I could get going and get away from him I was pummeled again by a jarring hit from his car.

At some point, he must have realized that he was not going to actually be able to smash me into pieces because after the zillionth hit he finally got tired of beating me into the guardrail and sped off after someone else.

Then, I put the pedal to the metal and started circling the outside of the track, hoping to avoid all of the other cars and the rat-tail boy. Then, in my haste to avoid being hit, I smashed into someone by accident for the first time. I flew forward with my car’s momentum and landed back in my seat with a “thonk.”

It was exhilarating. My heart racing, I looked up to see that I had bashed into a pink car with a chubby man and his daughter stuffed inside. They were weaving slowly around the track, unable to turn the wheel due to the man’s massive girth. His knees stuck up in the air like sails. It was a pitiful sight. I started to feel that same creepy grin I saw on the little boy’s face spreading across my own. When I reared back to hit them again, I knew that I had mastered bumper cars.

Riding in a car in China was nothing like this, probably because my life was at stake. I was afraid every time I got into a car, van, three-wheeled truck or other kind of makeshift vehicle. I would hold on to anything available and wished the cars had seat belts or that the seat belts would work and not just leave dark stains on my shirts. After having lived in New York, I thought that I could handle massive traffic anywhere, cars going at mach speed and herds of people crossing roads. But even New Yorkers follow rules like no passing using the opposite side of the road.

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