Shipped to Shanghai! Vol. 2 -- Escape

"Of the thirty-six strategems of Master Tan, running away is best."
--The Thirty-Six Strategies of Ancient China

I tried to portray Jason in a positive light in that last e-mail. But already darker aspects of his personality were surfacing. I wanted to like Jason, I really did. After all, he did help me move to Shanghai and look for a job. But I had trouble getting along with him. Even after he'd found an apartment and a job, I still took the heat whenever something went wrong. I'd tell you how bad he was, but it's better to hear it in Jason's own words. Here are some things he'd said to me recently:

"You're a dipshit. You need to wear a shirt that says, 'I'm a Dipshit' so you can warn people when they meet you."

"I'm calling you my Happy Spastic from now on. You know what a spastic is? It's a retard. You're a retard and yet you're happy about it."

"You read too much."

"You're worse than a girl."

I had a feeling that Jason would have respected me if I would just insult him back. But I didn't want to do that. I wished he would just cut me some slack. It's my first time in China, I'm bound to make a lot of mistakes. Here I am, struggling to make this expat thing work. Then he would always come along and cut me down.

At around 10:00PM on Friday Sept. 9, I brushed my teeth, turned off the lights, and went to bed. I also set the interior deadbolt lock, an act that would change everything.

1:00AM. I heard someone banging on the front door and shouting my name. I staggered out of bed and went to the door. I unlocked the door, and Jason burst in. He reassured the two Chinese cops drawn by the commotion, and closed the door on them.

Then Jason grabbed me by the neck and held me against the wall. His fingers squeezed my throat.

"I told you not to set the fucking deadbolt because I can't unlock it from outside," Jason said through gritted teeth.

"I'm . . . I'm so sorry," I rasped.

He hurled me in the direction of my room. "I want you out of the apartment by next week!" Jason roared.

I was too stunned to even cry. Did that really happen?

The next day, we talked. Jason said he would never touch me again and that he wasn't serious about me moving out. I think he was scared of having to pay the full rent by himself; it would equal almost 50% of his salary. Combined with the security deposit due this month, it would be almost 90%.

I made up my mind right there and then: I'd have to do another Midnight Run. There was no way I could live with someone who didn't respect me and was prone to violence. I considered talking to Jason about leaving, then quickly rejected the idea. Tell a big mean guy I'm leaving and then still have to spend another night with him? Forget it. Let him find out when I'm gone.

I almost blew my cover by talking to the landlord's daughter the day before I planned to leave. Our landlord didn't speak English, so his daughter was our liaison. They had been so nice to us, I didn't want to leave without paying my share of the rent. I told her what happened and that I planned to relocate. I tried set a time to give her the money. The daughter said she wouldn't meet me until I spoke to my roommate. Damn. I'd have to pay her later.

I didn't sleep the whole night. The phone was in Jason's room. Every time it rang, I thought it would be the daughter warning Jason that I planned to leave. Then he'd storm into my room and beat the shit out of me.

Although the phone rang several times, it was always a wrong number.

I woke up at 5:00AM when I heard Jason getting up in his room. For 90 painstaking minutes, I laid in my bed, listening to Jason moving around the apartment, getting ready for work. At 6:24AM, I finally heard the loud creak of the front door. He was gone!

I jumped out of bed and started throwing stuff into my luggage. Time seemed to slow down. I was sure that I'd take too long and Jason would come back while I was still packing. I dragged my bags to the front door and checked my watch: 7:00AM. Just 30 minutes?

I left a polite Fuck You note on the table and closed the door. The Chinese people waiting at the elevator looked at my bags curiously. I ignored them. Sweat poured down my face in rivers. Where would Jason be? In the elevator? At the front entrance? Where would he catch me?

When the doors to the elevator opened, morning sunlight streamed in from the entrance of the building. A fresh world without Jason was waiting. I gripped my bags and charged forward at full speed. I was almost free.

"HEY!"

My heart stopped. First instinct: drop the bags and run like hell. Dive into a taxi and shout, "Drive, bitch! Drive!" Instead, I froze. One millimeter at a time, I turned around.

It was the apartment manager, an old Chinese lady. She pointed at my bags and asked me something in Mandarin.

I smiled reassuringly and said, "Plane trip." She started to ask something else. I booked it to the nearest taxi and got out of there.

I sank into the seat of the taxi. This trip has turned into something else. The Job From Hell. The Psycho Roommate. Would I ever have any good news for you guys?

Luckily, I was able to arrange for an apartment in advance. I told the two bosses at my company about the situation. They wanted to hire me, but we were still waiting for approval from their client, a local elementary school. I went to them because I had no one else to turn to. Andy was an Englishman who was in charge of academic affairs. Mr. Chen was the Chinese partner who handled the business side. His English was excellent. We met in Andy's office.

"Don't worry, Marcus. We've got guanxi [connections]," Andy said. "We can make things happen. We need to get you away from that nutter as soon as possible."

"We have a room available at one of our school apartments," Mr. Chen said. "You could move in right away."

"Great!" I felt so much better.

"We have another teacher already living there," Andy said.

Not a roommate again! "What's he like?" I asked nervously.

"Don't worry, Marcus." Andy smiled. "You'll like her."

Her?