It only seems fitting that after a month without posting I should resume my diatribes with something to grab your attention. I will confess that there are no lurid details which you might have set your hopes on. This visit into the sordid world of Beijing’s brothers was merely a result of naivety plus exhaustion. So if you were hoping for something more scintillating, just stop here and use your imagination.

The boring truth is that I had come to the end of a five-day marathon journey that took me across the width of China – from Kashgar to the border of Mongolia and then back to Beijing. And somehow on the final leg of the journey I had gotten my arrival time confused. So I found myself standing – barely awake – in a Beijing bus station at 2am.

The sleeper bus from the Mongolian border arrived at 6am which allowed me to meet my friend Adam at a reasonable time and crash at his flat. But I had a few hours to kill before any decent person would be awake. But I figured I could keep myself occupied for a few hours.

The trouble was occupying myself with anything other than sleep was unacceptable to my body. Days of catnaps and fitful bus and train sleep had caught up to me. The cheap traveler in me was loathed to pay 400RMB (about $80 USD) for a hotel room for just a few hours, so I decided to try the 24-hour hostel near the train station downtown. I nodded off in the cab ride there and awoke as the driver impatiently tried to collect his fare and get me out. A visit to the front desk of the hostel only brought very polite rejection as the hostel was full.

The opportunists outside the hostel sensed my predicament so when I stepped back onto the street they naturally had the upper hand. The touts swarmed me with the smug satisfaction of knowing my options were limited. The negotiations began and the starting price of 600RMB made me quickly wave them all off and head toward the rail station to find a bench.

My hasty departure only encouraged the next round of negotiation. I knew that “How much you pay?” was usually the most expedient route of bringing price within reason, so I turned back and continued the negotiation: 60RMB. All the touts scoffed at this and turned away. This was my cue to maintain my indifference and also walk away.  And so goes the tedious art of Chinese bargaining.

After a few more rounds a price is finally thrown out that I can live with: 80RMB (about $15 USD). I repeat the figure, then write it down, and perform all necessary over verification I know is prudent to assure we are both clear on the price.

Pleased with myself for having gotten what I thought was a good price, I relaxed a bit. But my small victory was one of a novice amongst the masters.

I piled my bags onto the back seat of a bicycle taxi and the tout peddled me down the road to a hotel. It was now 3 am and there where no less than five people waiting at in the lobby to greet me, carry my bags, open doors for me, etc. I was suspicious at all the service – pretty fancy for 80RMB. But I was confident in the price agreement so I just figured I got a great deal on a fancy hotel.

That’s when round two of the bargaining game began. There were no flags signaling a change, but the game shifted. We went from a deep-wallet gouge to poverty by a thousand tiny cuts. I confirmed that the room was in fact 80RMB and then gave my passport and paid. Then I was told of a special Beijing room tax, followed by a key deposit, a slipper deposit (no shoes allowed in this hotel), etc., etc… I began to protest each charge thinking as long as the total didn’t go over 100RMB I’d stay. Attrition was the new tactic and the well rested staff knew they had the advantage: I just wanted to sleep.

When the game was finally over, my wallet had been emptied of 120RMB (about $20 USD) and I shuffled off to my room in my new slippers. The distractions, the stacked odds, and my singular thoughts of sleep had all prevented me from noticing that anything was “different” about this hotel.

The carpeted halls were dimly lit, the staff was almost entirely young women, there was some western club/house music playing at low volume everywhere. The staff had told me I had to check out by 9am. I would have protested a five hour stay at that price, but I knew I had other accommodations waiting. My room resembled more of a TV lounge than any hotel room I had come to know in China. There was a huge plasma screen in the wall, 2 recliner chairs and no bed to speak of. The woman leading me to the room pulled the two recliners together to form a bed, set out a sheet and blanket, and handed me the key.

Finally… a place to lie down. Sleep overwhelmed me, but pushed the makeshift bed in front of the door to prevent anyone from getting in. And then I fell into a comatose sleep.

When a phone in the room rang, I pulled myself to consciousness and looked at my watch. It was 9:30. I had overslept. I figured this was the front desk calling to remind me it was time to leave. I picked up the phone, “Ni hao, you like a massage?” It dawned on me that I was not in a normal hotel.

I gathered my things exchanged my slippers for my shoes and left. Looking back over my shoulder I caught the English name of the establishment – Beijing Central Business Hotel. Somehow I felt my wallet was safer back out on the street than in the business hotel.