The night before Christmas Eve, my friend Kenneth invited me to Shenzhen for an opening. His father had bought this place up there at the OCT-LOFT art commune. I love that area. It’s like 798 in Beijing but less commercially developed. The place is named LSD (don’t ask) and sells designer furniture, but it’s got a bar, a lounge and a restaurant attached to it, and a cavernous wine cellar underneath.
HK Editorial was still in the office at 8:30pm trying to finish up the issue before the holidays, so I was hesitant to trek all the way up to China. Nevertheless, the Universe wanted me to go—both Kenneth’s mom and DJ Kulu (who was to play at the party) were requesting my presence over the phone.
I stepped across the border at around 9:40pm, groggy from the nap I took on the train, and that’s when the evil betches Sloth and Vanity got me. There were lines upon lines of empty cabs and I just couldn’t be bothered to find the front of the queue. Then I unwittingly responded to some strange man’s compliment on my marvelous new houndstooth coat. And before I knew it, I was shepherded into some car—not a licensed cab. A door with pitch-black tinted windows slammed shut. Then the usher got in, sitting in the front seat next to the driver. I was outnumbered. But it was a fabulous car, and only when I heard the clack of the automatic lock that sealed me in did common sense return, in the form of an internal voice screaming, “JOHANNES, YOU TWIT whatthefuckareyoudoing?” So began 35 minutes of nerve-wracking terror. Like, hello? Bring out the chloroform.
They started asking me dubious questions: “Your coat expensive?” “How much cash do you have on you?”
“Oh, I got this cheap thing in Mong Kok, and I only have $200 on me,” I lied as I furtively removed a crisp $1,000 bill from my wallet and stuffed it into my crotch. I also took out my Kenzo keychain for self-defense.
I decided to change the topic of conversation from economics to humanities, to gauge their moral balance, to forge a bond, and to break that terrifying silence: “What province are you from? My ancestral village is Shunde. Do you miss your family? How do you count in your dialect? Gai no se xi ngou. Oh how interesting! Did I pronounce it correctly?”