I am by no means an old 'China hand.' I would not even pretend to know or understand one-tenth of what Chinese culture is really all about. There are customs and traditions in this country that I have come to love, and some that I've come to loathe. The point of this diatribe will not be about the former.
Anyone who has spent more than a day in China's urban centers, particularly Beijing, will know that while the 'locals' -- and I use that definition loosely -- have a generally friendly disposition, the habitual nature in which bad habits permeate through society is enough to drive you to the bottom of a bottle of baijiu! That said, I -- somewhat to my chagrin -- have become accustomed to tip-toeing around 'spitsicles' on the sidewalks in the winter, huffing in toxic fumes in the air like a Chinese coal miner and being nickeled and dimed by local shop keepers merely because of the color of my skin. In fact, truth be told, a part of me (let's clarify that this is a small part) doesn't want to see this aspect of China disappear. It's these daily annoyances that give Beijing its character and guarantee, thankfully, that the capital is highly unlikely to be chosen as the next location for the revival of 'Sex and the City.'
All this being said, there is one trend that is causing the circus clowns in my head to start juggling at an increasingly more rapid pace. For lack of a better term, I'm going to label this as 'machesmoing.' This 'look at me, I'm making more in a month than my father made in a year when he was my age' attitude is personified on my daily, and lengthy, trips on the Beijing subway. The unfortunate demise of my Ipod, and the fact that I don't like people reading over my shoulder, has relegated me to do some Freudian analysis of my fellow commuters. It's this analysis that has allowed me to become quite good at the 'subway lottery.' (choosing the person to stand in front of who has the most likely chance of getting off in the least amount of stops so that you can wrangle their seat before the mid-40's Beijing housewife lurking nearby pulls a 300 pound linebacker routine to get there first) This psycho analysis has also allowed me to discover that a fair number of Chinese men in the 18 to 45 demographic feel that they have quite sizeable baby-makers.
The seats in all the Beijing subway cars these days have defined borders, allowing 6 people to a row (2 or 3 in the smaller seats near the doors in between cars). So, in theory, these seats should also reflect an invisible grid in which one's extremities should not cross. However, more and more, I'm discovering that cubicles should well be the order of the day. Much like Al Bundy in the television comedy series 'Married With Children,' (minus the hand down the pants, for now) quite a number of Chinese men are more than willing to allow their legs to cross over that invisible barrier into other people's comfort zone. So what's the reasoning? There are a few possible explanations for this: Perhaps years of using squat toilets has permanently locked the leg muscles into this position? Maybe the development of Chinese underwear has led to the need to sit like this? (Hey, nobody likes the feeling of having their Fruit-of-the-Looms holed up in box canyon) Is it possible that, not unlike Chinese women's bust sizes, Chinese men's testicles are getting larger, precipitating the need for more room while in the seated position? These are all potential arguments that can -- and possibly will -- be made in response to this diatribe. However, I think it goes deeper.
China is developing rapidly. With this comes a growing sense of pride and nationalism in this country which is seeping into the core of people's everyday life. This, and the 'One Child Policy,' has created a greater sense of 'one-upmanship,' particularly among young men who are up and comers in society. And because of this it's my estimation that the testicular advertising campaign being waged on the subway is a subconscious manifestation of these attributes in society. 'I'm going to take my piece of the world, and a little bit of yours as well, because I don't think you're going to complain too much as long as I don't go too far.' That leg rubbing up against yours is the equivalent of my local cigarette purveyor charging me 8 kuai for a 7.5 kuai pack of butts. Am I gonna bitch about the loss of 5 Jiao? Probably not. However, there has to be -- and will be -- a breaking point. The question is, where, and when, will that take place?
