There’s a first time for everything (part two)

Read the first part of the tale here and don’t forget to vote for your favorite flag–you have two more days to vote!

We clambered quickly (quickly, but not gracefully, remember our voluminous shopping bags) out of the taxi upon arrival at the station and set off at a jog. However, as we approached the normal entrance we realized the large amounts of construction going on at the station. There were signs pointing towards a staircase with arrows and “temporary waiting room.” I ditched the Ikea bag I was carrying so I could set off at a brisker jog to check out the situation. However, as I kept jogging further and further and further, I realized there was absolutely no way we were going to get the train. Before ever reaching the promised destination of “temporary waiting room,” I called the girls on my cell and broke the news that we were going to need to go to the ticket office to try to get on another train.

After retracing my steps to the girls, we headed into the ticket office. We waited in one line. We explained our situation. The worker told us to get in a different line. That line was about a mile long. We noticed the line next to that one appeared to be the same type of the line (doing a quick comparison of characters) and was a bit shorter. Obviously a no-brainer, we went for the shorter line. When we finally were next in line, however, we realized that one of the labels was the same as the neighboring line, and one was very different. We crossed our fingers that we wouldn’t have to move to the now even longer line next door. After a brief conversation, the guy behind the window stamped our tickets and handwrote the number of the next train. We didn’t have seats, but he told us we could try to upgrade to beds on the train. We didn’t have to pay any extra, although the value of this ticket (on a much longer, not quite as nice of a train) was probably about 20% of the value of our other tickets.

We debated making another stop in McDonalds, but not knowing how far the mysterious temporary waiting hall was, we decided to head directly there. Tickets in hand, we headed off on the hike to the waiting room, following the ever so helpful signs. We walked and walked and walked and walked. Due to the construction, we ended up walking a mile between the ticket office and waiting room and waiting room and train. How do I know that? Rachel has a pedometer on her Ipod. We tracked it.

Anyways, we waited out our train in a incredibly large, dim, depressing temporary building serving as the waiting room, all the while having our pictures taken by curious onlookers and being told the baby didn’t have enough clothes on and was going to be sick. Trust me, poor Maddie was sweating and if anything was too hot. However, Chinese people tend to be deathly afraid of the cold, especially when it comes to babies.

Eventually, it was time to join the massive crowd waiting outside the gate for our train. At this point, I was sending up some pretty desperate requests. I knew the train we were taking was the same exact train I had had a horrible experience on my last trip to Shenyang. I knew it would be a very crowded train, where with no seats, we would be packed between crowds of people in an aisle standing, being constantly stared at and questioned. And I knew Maddie would need to eat again soon. Not the best combination of factors. And so I was very directly pleading with the Father to lead us to the right person who could get us an upgrade to sleepers. With that faint hope in heart, we joined the pushing mass moving towards the train. As if being steered through various narrow gates among a large throng of people wasn’t enough to make us feel like cattle, the temporary hallways we traversed were covered in sawdust.

Eventually we arrived on the platform, and went straight for the first unoccupied attendant we saw. We explained our plight to him and asked where we could purchase bed tickets. He pointed in one direction. We asked him which car. I silently pleaded for favor again. He must have decided we looked pretty helpless and motioned for us to follow him.

He led us to a very official and commanding man whom we soon nicknamed “the General.” Our friend explained the situation, and the General abruptly responded “there are no beds.” At this moment, two guys, pulling out papers and evidently attempting to work their guangxi (relationship currency) strode up and began conversing with the General. Our friend didn’t move, so neither did we. Upon the conclusion of the guangxi conversation, our friend went for bat for us again. “They have a baby. The baby will have to eat. They missed their train.” We stood by, pathetic looks on our faces, and prayers in our hearts. With a grunt, the General motioned toward the car in front of us, and our friend led us onto the train and promptly sat us down at a spacious table in the dining car. This result was just as good as, or perhaps better than, beds. At this point, the three of us were praising the Father for our good fortune, and not caring in the least if they made us buy a meal. But it got even better. A few minutes later the General entered the dining car and explained to the attendant in the car that we didn’t need to purchase a meal, we just needed the seat.

I’d love to end the story there, but apparently the Father thought if the result was too good we wouldn’t learn our lesson about missing a train. About an hour before our expected arrival back home, the General returned to inform us there were now open beds and we needed to move. What followed was another long hike through numerous dark sleeper cars and narrow doorways with all of our belongings and a recently put to sleep baby. We purchased our upgrades and sat down on our beds to wait out what we thought would be about thirty more minutes.

Twenty minutes later the General told us to start getting ready and sat down on the bench opposite us. And then sat with us for the next hour, much of which we spent parked on the tracks as faster trains passed us. Finally, around 11:15, we rolled into our home station. The General helped us off the train with a friendly smile and a wave. We were wearied by the journey, but thankful for the provision that saved us from what could have been a much more nightmarish trip. And I, personally, was thankful for the killer pair of heels in my bag that just might have made the headache of the trip worth it all.