Vision

My subway stop is Chaoyangmen and this night is no different when I get off. I edge myself closer to the door and when it opens I push, slide, and sometimes shove my way out. I used to say "excuse me" but after a year in Beijing I realize there is no need for such niceties and they will just slow you down. And to be slowed down here means being pushed back onto the train by the oncoming passengers. I make if off the train, and head for the "wai" side of Chaoyangmen. I take the stairs instead of the escalators up three flights of stairs to the street. Very few people do this and I tell myself I do it for the exercise but maybe it's just because I have no patience for the escalator. There is no down escalator and at this time of night I am greeted by a flood of people walking down the stairs. They make way for me as I climb up, an occasional bemused smile but mainly indifference. The stairs are a bit steep and to make eye contact going down means risking a fall. At the top of the stairs I emerge into the early evening twilight, like an old car reaching the top of a hill and feeling a momentary resurgence. It's then that I see her, 150 meters away, but a vision. I see long flowing straight here, a lean look, outlines of a pretty face. At 100 meters shape starts to come. At 50 meters I am obsessed. At 25 I think she sees me too, but I cannot be sure. She's about 5'4", with a round smooth face, young but not a kid, thin but hips, athletic in he walk, smart in her look. People think I have a "type". The first assumption now is that I like Asian women because I am like in China and married to a Chinese woman. Asian women are the generalization because whites are assumed to make no distinction between the Asian races. It's all the same to us, and it's all good, or so the line of thought goes. While it is true that fairly late in life I discovered my, let's say, aptitude for Asian women, it is not a "type" for me. It's more like discovering I like vanilla ice cream too when all I knew before was chocolate. Chocolate can still be damn good. Some people who think the "know" me (all five of them) will presume that my type is "thin" or petite because I tend to go for the thin ones and once was with a way too thin one. I can't say the thin thing ever appealed to me, but if I am honest with myself I will acknowledge that after the way to thin one became what she became I do notice the unhealthy thin ones in a disturbing way. But sometimes it is best not to be so honest with oneself. So, at 10 meters, I can see she is not looking at me. And as much as I don't have a type, this woman is it. Everything is right. I want to trip her or something. Anything to get to know her. I can feel the initial pangs of a crush coming on. At 5 meters she stops. Makes a hacking sound with her nose. And spits a luggie onto the cement that would make a sailor proud. This is China. This is Beijing.