Take off your shirt. Now take off your rib cage.

I went to get a physical examination today. There's only one place in all of Beijing where foreigners can get a physical that carries any legal weight, so I got up at 6:30AM and triathaloned it there - walked to the subway, subway'd to the bus, bus'd to the middle of nowhere and walked some more. It was good weather to be healthy in, a relentless shower that occasionally scaled up to fairly convincing rain. The puddles were what made it fun, and I had extra time to enjoy them because I had no idea where I was going between the legs of the triathalon. Yes, it was very wet there. No, it wasn't very erotic. Yes, I just can't help myself.

Whenever I need to find a bus in China, I'm at a loss. And by a bus in China, I mean a bus anywhere. And by a bus I mean anything outside of our apartment. I'm hopelessly dependent on knowing where everything is beforehand, and since Yuan Yuan already knows where everything is, I don't even need to depend on that. If I'm looking for something and it's not on my computer, I call Yuan Yuan and ask her.

"Honey, where'd you put the tomatoes? In the fridge? Great. Which shelf? Okay, they're the red ones right?"

But this time Yuan Yuan was too busy to go with me, and the bus stop, sensing her absence, grew particularly nefarious. I got off the subway, picked one of the three available directions at random, mostly by virtue of it having a news-stand where I could ask for directions, and splashed merrily along. What I took to be a news-stand turned out to be a hot-dog stand, which I should have suspected was part of the bus stop's evil plot to waylay me. It must have known I was on a 30 day trial of being vegetarian and was testing me. If I even so much as licked a hot-dog (you get a free lick before you buy it), I would never find someone to take my physical in a million years. Unless I took a cab, then maybe in 15 minutes.

I asked the hot-dog vendor where the Beijing International Hygeine/Health Protection center was. He pointed at a hot dog. I repeated my question. He wasn't very happy about it. He assumed an irritated expression and wagged his thumb in a direction over his shoulder, roughly the direction from where I had come, but also only ~15 degrees off from another direction, over a bridge, which I was later to discover led straight to Hell. I pointed in the direction I had come from, and said "hmm?" He didn't confirm or deny and just repeated his pointing. I decided he was obviously lying and went across the bridge. 10 minutes later I came back and went in the direction he'd pointed out. I'd always had a weakness for reverse psychology, but how did the bus stop know that?

The physical examination itself was uneventful. I will therefore describe it in mind-numbing detail.

I was one of the first to arrive, and there was virtually no wait. I went from room to room getting signatures on my health sheet. I felt like I was carrying around a petition. "Will you vouch for my state of health please? I already have 5 signatures, I just need 2 more."

There were 7 components:
1. Blood test - barely felt it, the nurse was a pro. She was also a cutie pie. As she pricked my arm, she asked if I smelled a horrible stench. I was a bit perplexed, wondering if I'd accidentally crapped my pants, and whether she was now going to say she was obliged to give me a sponge bath. I raised an eyebrow quizzically. She explained that they were eating some Durian (fruit) earlier, and asked if I hated the smell. I admitted to hating it, but not to having smelled it. I complimented her on her needlework. She single-mindedly pursued the Durian offense and asked me if I'd dare try it. I said I'd do it for my country. She let me go in one piece.
2. Blood pressure & heart rate test - 115/68 I think, maybe not. The heart rate was 53, which the software the nurse was using labeled as "A bit too slow." I asked her if my heartrate was indeed too slow. She said yes, a bit. It was a dialogue for the ages.
3. Ultrasound (it's a boy)
4. X-Ray. I tried to go to the X-Ray room 3 times and each time some other doctor would rush over and intercept me and examine me. Then when the X-Ray was the only one left, a nurse's aid came up to me and took me outside to a bus. I climbed in, stood in front of a portrait of Mickey Mouse, with the words "Look here" inscribed on his forehead, got handed a big heavy triangular lead-filled groin protector and smiled for the judges while they irradiated my chest.
5. Electric conductivity test. The doctor clipped what looked like declawed jumper cables to my hands and feet, then stuck some leads to my chest. I asked her belatedly if she was going to shock the capitalism out of me. She said no. I can't remember what happened next.
6. Eyes and ears.
7. Food/Height test. This was the final test and held the biggest surprise. The doctor has the 2nd floor all to himself, and a spooky sign "Surgery -->" pointed right to his door, where he sat, beckoning me to come in quick before I missed my chance for a free amputation. He sat me down in a chair, scrutinized the palms of my hands for the briefest of moments, then probed all around and behind my jawline (presumably looking for hidden food caches, as the examination requires an empty stomach), then had me stand on what looked like a weighing device but with no display or little brass weights or demarcations of any kind. I asked if I needed to take off my flip-flops, he said no, and then pronounced me tall.

Guys, it took 27 years, but I've finally reached 1.8 meters. I'd like to thank my flip-flops, for giving me that extra boost, my doctor, for not giving a damn about accuracy, my parents, for believing in me, I couldn't have done it without you, and Yuan Yuan, who is always saying life would be perfect if she were just a little bit taller. Your dream has finally come true! To me.

An Argument for Contraception

Got back from the awards ceremony barely alive. It is definitely going high up on my experience blacklist, right next to the Happening. The awards ceremony is a species of revenge against parents - a hybrid of PTO meetings, school concerts, and Nazi concentration camps. Parents are herded into the bleachers of the gymnasium, shoulder to shoulder, so as to promote rapid sweat gland activation. The room is then heated to 400 degrees. Flesh eating bacteria are deployed from ceiling vats. Six-inch knives are passed out - small intestines and kidneys are removed and passed down the aisle for holding. No bathroom breaks. Then the ceremony commences.

The teachers hold all the power. Figuratively, and literally, because they're walking around with coolers on their heads and little battery-powered fans in their hands. They have a small table stacked with awards, but don't be fooled, it's the most misleading table in the world. Every plaque is really a 500-sheet ream of certificates, every certificate is perforated and turns into 50 ribbons, and every ribbon has 100 stickers on it, to be handed out individually.

The awards start out auspiciously - band, chorus, biggest nerd. You think - this can't take much longer, everyone's already gotten at least three. I was particularly deluded - my sister had the best spot due to her last name - Vayngrib. Applause was requested to be held till all names were called, and for each group, she was almost always the last one. Thus, applause invariably occurred right after her name, which I'm sure has completely corrupted her ego.

Musically talented, artistically talented, dance troupe...on and on, and they all sound reasonable, and they all sound like they're nearing the end. In the back of the gym, you can see some of the teachers playing a drinking game - whenever students from their class receive an award, they take a shot. By now you can hear them too. Most parents are still fighting - cheering and pretending to be happy to not give the teachers the satisfaction - but many have already zombified.

Then it gets ridiculous.

Biggest Jew-fro, Ugliest Girl, Student You Didn't Know We Had, Biggest Bully, Most Hopeless, School Slut, Most Awards This Year, Biggest Asskisser...The parents are losing hope, who makes these up? I can smell fear, or is that the rapidly spreading pitstain of my neighbor?

Finally...after an eternity of sadism, the teachers have had their fill. The parents of the children who received less than 20 awards are called up, and stoned in front of everyone. By this time, no one cares, and are just thankful for the extra breathing room. The bell finally rings, and everyone who's still alive exits with their heads down. A few are carried out on stretchers.