Why do you, you seem so afraid? But I can't figure you out

My apartment in Shanghai is about 4 miles from where I work. Still the commute can present problems. Before I got here, my gracious host, Jeff, suggested that I take the subway into work. So I tried this on the first day. The first subway car to pull up was so full that when it stopped at the station, people that wanted to keep going actually got squeezed out. I finally managed to get in on a "spacious" one, but quickly swore off the subway.

So I started taking the taxi to work. I should mention that Shanghai taxi drivers are the most amazingly inept group of people in the world. You would think that if you're job was to drive people places, you would learn tricks of the trade, such as not going on the immensely crowded freeway, or stopping when I say to. One of my taxi drivers stalled at the end of the ride, gesturing wildly and acting confused for roughly 30 seconds, so the meter would roll over and he would get an extra kuai. One kuai is worth 12.5 cents.

My 4 mile morning commute usually takes about half an hour.

In the evenings, I decided to start walking home. I usually walk to the gym, which is on the way home, and then stop at whatever restaurant catches my fancy, before finally making it back to the apartment. It's about 5 miles all told, and usually takes about 2-3 hours after the workout and the dinner, but its fun, because I get to see some of the back alleys in Shanghai.

Today on the way home, I was feeling lazy. I had some leftover Indian in the fridge, and I just wanted to get to the gym quickly, so that I could enjoy my delcious dinner. I left work and began hailing taxis. Shanghai is a desperately under-taxied city, even worse than New York. It was rush hour, and it didn't look like I was ever going to find a ride, so I began to walk in the direction of the gym, hailing any taxi that drove by.

Suddenly, a motorcycle with a taxi medallion, pulled up beside me. I'd seen these before, apparently the Chienese government has decided to allow some motorcyclists to ferry people around town, but I would have none of it.

"No thank you" I said, and the man drove off.

Instantly, I regretted it. I had come to Shanghai for adventure, and here adventure had shown up on a motorcycle and offered me a ride, and I had the temerity to refuse him. When the next motorcycle taxi pulled up, I asked the driver how much it cost. He held up two fingers. I got on.

"Two kuai," I said, adjusting the seat as best I could, "how cheap!"

He laughed, "not two kuai, twenty kuai!" By now he had begun to accelerate, and I was in no position to bargain.

I should say now that I have never been in a motorcycle. Years of brainwashing from both parents have convinced me that motorcycling is a truly evil activity, on par with killing a man or putting your elbows on the table. So when he hit the gas I had no clue what to do with my dangling legs. They hung limply from the side of the bike, until my driver began to yell, "Put your legs here!" pointing to foot holds.

He was a talented driver, but I quickly realized the mistake that I'd made in getting on that bike. Shanghai streets are the craziest in the world, full of unexpected and ignored one-way signs. There are large bike lines on either side of the road, but cars will plow down them if the traffic is bad.

On multiple occasions, the driver would pass cars by weaving through oncoming traffic. The whole time I sat on back, thinking "please take your time, there is no rush, and life is precious". At one point I screamed. The whole experience was straight out of some cliched action picture where the well-meaning nerdy computer geek (me) gets onboard some spaceship/racecar/motorcycle with the take-no-prisoners follow-no-rules hero (the driver) and hilarity ensues. Only it's not so funny when you're the guy whose life's in danger.

Finally we arrived at the gym in one piece. The driver had a huge grin on his face when I handed him the money which means that either he was ripping me off or he had enjoyed the sounds of the muffled screams coming from the back of his bike.

Either way, I'm never doing that again.