Red Sky

Gong che zai na li, gong che zai na li, gong che– “Ni hao!” I shouted to any one of the million passers-by. They kept their earbuds in and their eyes low as I frantically looked around for someone to help me. Finally, a man with slightly leathered skin approached me and looked down at me with austere slitted eyes.

I couldn’t understand a word of the gibberish that came out of his mouth. He had a thick accent, and his glare was already distracting my focus.

“Ni shuo yi dian kuai…” I said in a timid American tone, speaking very slowly.

“Ni xiang yao shenme?” He said, simplifying his previous elaborate sentence.

“Gong che zai na li?” I asked happily.

He proceeded to give me a set of directions that made no sense to me. All I could make out from his words were something about a starfish and a chair and the weather.

As he continued to ramble on, my gaze became distant and the sounds of the background became muted and warbled. Slowly, as I paid closer attention, the man’s words changed into English ones.

“Red sky, yellow pool, Virid eyes and a caucasian fool. Red sky, yellow pool, Virid eyes and a non-asian fool. Red sky, yellow pool, Virid eyes and xiao-ren fool.”

And then he repeated it.

I slumped my shoulders and stopped paying attention. The man grabbed my shoulder and nearly shouted the rhyme at me. But by the time he got to the second phrase, I’d waved him away, and the world was already fading into red and yellow.