Things you shouldn't say in China...

"Well, I don't have a glass."

Nameably, this should not be said in response to someone toasting you from the next table over.

It all started when Landon's iron horse got a flat tire, so really I blame him for this incident. As we were waiting for the guy to repair it ($1.50 for new tire and labor), we took refuge from the chill outside inside a cloud of second-hand smoke in the cafe across the street. We were enjoying our lamb dumplings when we couldn't help but notice the ruckus going on at the big round table next to ours. It was filled with about 10 professional-looking folk who were amiably greeted by everyone who walked into the cloudy restaurant. Village big wigs, we presumed.

As we were scoping out the scene, I unwittingly made eye contact with one gentleman preparing the next round with a big bottle of baijiu and I knew we were in for trouble. You see, baijiu is a horrid alcoholic substance usually derived from sorghum or glutinous rice, and the Chinese love it - even at lunch apparently. Maybe it's the 55% vol alcohol and distinct paint thinner flavor; or perhaps it's the way it makes their little round faces glow red; whatever the reason, real Chinese men down baijiu like water at their little man parties or, better said, try to get everyone else to down baijiu like water with toast after toast. And so I became the toasted.

"Well, I don't have a glass."

I scrambled for a reason to graciously decline his toast, hoping to save face for all involved. Unfortunately, my excuse was too easily resolved and in no time there was not one, but two small shot glasses being filled to the brim. Sorry Landon.

With forced grins, he and I raised our glasses in receipt of their friendly toast and largess, and sipped the clear liquid with as much anticipation as does a 5-year old cough syrup. Head nods, smiles, and raised glasses indicated a successful international exchange and an ambiance of goodwill shared by all. If only there was not 5/6ths of a shot glass of biajiu left.

As Landon and I returned to our lamb dumplings, we discussed our plight and exit strategy. Leave the rest? No, exuent international goodwill. Drink it? No, Mothers Against Drunk Driving would be irate (especially mine). Tea pot? No, might get served to the next unknowing customer. Tea cup? Yes, please.

We furtively emptied the majority of our biajiu glasses' contents into our teacups and casually topped off our cups the green tea. With our dumplings finished and our cover up complete, we stood in reverence of our honorable hosts, raised our glasses (careful to cover it so the actual amount of beverage was indeterminable), and downed the remaining drops, displaying our empty glasses as an act of face for our comrades. And with that, we grabbed our bags and shuffled out the door before they could even think to refill our glasses.

By that time, Landon's flat tire was more than fixed and we were ready to get back out on the road, though perhaps more theoretically than mentally or physically.

Backdated - 10/7

Disclaimer: Neither Landon nor I condone the consumption of biajiu, unless one gets shot by some Indians and has to remove the bullet with a hatchet by campfire.