(Continued from Arrival in Beijing)
The first lesson that we should have learned, was if approach by an English speaking guy insisting he has a taxi, when you are in the middle of a Chinese-speaking city of 15 million, you should be a bit skeptical. Unfortunately, we were so taken off guard by the man’s miraculous appearance and his English, that we didn’t have any time to be skeptical before he whisked Erick’s suitcase away and was hauling us off towards the taxi line. Having been warned about trickery by my friends, after I had gathered myself, I tried to stop the guy and ask “How much?” He kept walking. I asked in Chinese. He looked back at us, cracked a joke in English, and then said, “Don’t worry, taxi meter.”

We were headed to a long line of taxis and I relaxed a bit. My gut said we were being tricked. But I thought, well maybe this was a taxi driver who had just got out of his taxi to snatch a fare, and that’s why it didn’t feel quite right, but as long as we got in a taxi, then we’d be fine.

We walked right past the taxi line.

I glanced at Erick. He sort of shrugged.

I asked again trying to catch up with the man as he briskly walked, “Yes, I understand meter,’” I said, “but how much will it cost to go downtown?” He smiled an awkward, forced smile.

We passed the rental cars and buses.

“No problem man,” he said, “Meter.” I reached out and tried to stop him and asked again in broken Chinese, “How much to go downtown?”

He stopped, took out a laminated card and pointed at a picture of a sleek looking Lincoln Towncar. He pointed at a price typed in English on the card (obviously this is not the first time someone had asked) it read 300-500 RMB (about $US 38-65). He pointed at the 300 RMB ($38 US), repeated “meter,” smiled, said “no problem” and then turned and kept walking with us in tow.

300 RMB/$38US is a bit more than what we expected to pay for a taxi, but we were now 100 yards from the airport and I thought, well, I guess this guy must just be a private limo service, and, well, I guess we’ll just go with it since we’re far from the terminal, and $15 extra to take a fancy Towncar isn’t all that bad.

We kept walking, right through the parking garage.

The guy made a call on his mobile and then finally stopped, still tightly holding onto Erick’s luggage. He turned to us, “Just one moment sirs, just wait here.” We hesitated, looked at each other and waited for our private Towncar.

Two minutes of standing in an awkward silence later, “Here he comes,” said the man.

Around the corner came a dodgy, dirty, blue, rusty old Honda Civic with foggy windows and a crooked bumper. Erick and I exchanged glances. It pulled up to the curb blocking traffic, and the man quickly put our bags in the trunk, hustling us (in more than one way) into the back seat.

We looked around the car, a bit uneasy, and noticed there was no stickers, signs or anything that indicated this was a taxi. In fact, there wasn’t even a “meter.”

Mr. “Meter” then turned to me and said, “You pay me now, and he take you to your hotel.”

I said “What about the meter?”

Suddenly unable to understand English, he said, “No problem man, you just pay me now.” He repeated himself again.

I skeptically shot back about as aggravated as I get, “What about the meter man?”

“No, problem,” he said, “You pay me.”

I rolled my eyes, “How much?” I said suspiciously shaking my head.

“550 RMB ($US 65),” he insisted.

“No, no way man.” I said, “Too expensive. You said, meter.” He faked perplexed.

“No, I said, hen gui hen gui (very expensive, very expensive).” I waved my hands in his face.

“No man,” he said, “cheap. We take you to your hotel.”

We’d been had. Compliments to their scheme. We were 200 yards from the other taxis, we were in the car, our heavy bags were in the trunk, a line of cars had formed behind us as we were blocking traffic and we had two guys staring at us in the back seat of their car (one of which, who had his foot on the brake.)

I hesitated. I paused. I looked at Erick. I gave Mr. Meter 400 RMB ($US 58), and said, “that’s all I got, that’s all I’m going to give you.”
He said insistently, “550 RMB sir.”

“No,” I said, “That’s all I’m giving you,”

He looked at me, took the money, and said something to the driver (which I really hope wasn’t, “Drive these guys to the middle of nowhere and drop them off.”), he closed the door and we drove off.

I compliment the men on their scheme, it was smart, we fell for it, and I’m sure they are still at it today. In the end, it wasn’t the end of the world, it was an extra $US 40 (Though painful when your on a budget of $100 US/day), and we did get to our hotel. Though I was a bit pissed in the car (sorry Erick), not really for the money, but for the fact we had been tricked. In the end, the lesson is: when traveling, be wary of the man who speaks your native language and offers you a taxi. (I think Confucius once said something like that.)

Fortunately for us, after our rather ill flavored introduction to Beijing, we were about to go from meeting two of the trickiest people in Beijing to two of the nicest, our guides, Tool and Ice.