I walked around campus that Thursday with an extra spring in my step. For the first time in a long time, I had something to look forward to. I was excited and nervous. Throughout the day, I could feel my face starting to flush. I tried to calm down by taking deep breaths.
I decided to go early to find the place while it was still light out.
While I was on the bus, my stomach filled with butterflies and my chest was tight. I kept looking at the directions I had copied down in my best handwriting, the Chinese characters scrawled on a piece of lined paper like a grade-schooler. I was a little confused by the directions, however. I feared that I was on the bus going in the wrong direction. But when I got off the bus, I saw that I was right across from the mall that the directions had mentioned.
The main street stretched out in front of me, crowded and bustling with activity. Narrow alleys winded off the main drag.
I walked down the main street, hoping I would see a sign or an alley that was like the one described in the directions. All the directions said was, “After you get to the mall, it’s down an alley next to a small store,” but there were six alleys and all of them had stores. They purposefully made it hard to find.
“How was I supposed to find it? This is crazy,” I thought. But I was too scared to ask for directions.
I turned down one of the alleys. I passed shops’ advertisements for “adult health preservation products,”[1] which is a euphemism in Chinese for sex toys. I passed massage parlors and hair salons. I passed hotels advertising one- or two-hour stays.
I walked to one end of the alley. It was getting dark.
Finally, I noticed the English word JOY spray-painted on a wall with a sign on the door saying, “Only adults can enter.” I knew then that I was in the right place.
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