As the Olympics in China are approaching, I thought I should share one of my adventures in China.

Back in 1988, the ol’ Banana took a trek through China. I wasn’t old at the time, being only 26, but I felt that I was an experienced world traveler and the thought of exploring China was exciting. This trek was not one of my infamous world-drinking tours or wifey-planned-culture-tours, but it was more of a tour of self reliance through Southern China, or as I was later to called it at “Fear and More Fear in China.”

As part of the tour, I got the privilege of spending 24 hours with the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA). It wasn’t that I had wanted to spend any time with the Army, it just happened. Kinda by accident. Kinda by bad luck. Kinda by bad timing. Mostly due to my lack of understanding of the Cantonese dialect of the Chinese language. But I am getting ahead of the story.

I was traveling from Guangzhou to Nanning in early February 1988 via train. Just buying the ticket at the time was an adventure with lots of fingers pointing at maps and train cars and lots of unimpressed Chinese green uniform wearing officials. After difficult negotiations and numerous window changes, I was able to secure a ticket.

Feeling pretty good about my “mastery” of the ticketing process, I confidently strolled onto the train platform and made my way to the correct car and found a seat. At the time, being 6ft and weighing 195lbs, I was easily the biggest person on the train. And for some reason, the only Caucasian to be seen.

The usual Chinese music was blasting from the speakers, which made my walkman both a defensive sound blocker against bad elevator music and a curiosity item for my fellow travelers. - Remember, this is 1988 and China has just started to build many of these items, yet few of the citizens actually had access to them. The train lurched out, and we began our 8 plus hour journey.

Over the next few hours, my walkman was “listened” to by over 100 people who were all exposed to U2’s Joshua Tree. Also the Velcro on my backpack was a mystery to many of them. But the Marlboro cigarettes that I was carrying for friendship purposes (I did not smoke) were a HUGE hit. I took pictures. People took pictures of me.

I believed that I was doing a great job as a traveling ambassador and that my fellow travelers were not as wary about being near me. That was until there was a stop and ninety percent of them got off. Wow, guess stop number ten was a popular place but please do not ask me where it was, I have no clue. At least I was hoping they got off for a reason other than me.

Now in Europe, the destination of the car is clearly marked on the outside of the train. If for some reason there is a change, the conductors inform everyone. Now in China, there is no such system. I have been told that they “announce” the changes over the car speakers, but heck, I had no clue what was being said.

So somewhere along my trek, my car changed destinations. All I knew was that I had to count to twenty-one stops and get out and I would be in Nanning. So over the eight plus hours I counted and at the twenty-first stop, I got off. No one stop me. No one questioned me. No one seemed concerned. But as I surveyed the platform, I had one of those “I’m not in Kansas anymore” feelings.

There was not a single soul on the platform and in China that is weird. I had just left Guangzhou with its crush of people and the train had been packed. So this empty platform was a very disquieting. Plus I could not see any signs that said where I was. Nothing. No one.

I walked to the end of the platform and saw a small building. I walked over and found two gentlemen behind a glass window, wearing the official green uniforms that almost everyone in a government position were wearing. Almost none of the uniforms looked liked they fit. Either they were too tight or in most cases, to baggy.

The two gents were napping. They looked so peaceful and happy. I did not want to wake them. I know I don’t like to be woken up from naps.

I stood there for a minute, looking around and contemplating my next move. I was pretty confident by then that I was not in Nanning and was questioning my counting ability. A plan was being formulated in my tiny little brain. I was thinking I needed to find out where I was, where the local hostel was, and where I could find some food. Then all hell broke loose.

One of the two sleepers awoke and immediately started yelling. This startled the second happy sleeper, who now was very unhappy about being wakened and additionally unhappy that some dumb ass white dude was standing in front of him. Then out came the AK-47s.

OH SHIT!

They came out from behind there glass, yelling something that I had no clue but with the rifles pointed, I decided that sitting on the ground was my best plan. So I sat down, in middle of a room, and thought — hmmm, this is how those movies always start. You know the ones, where some dumbass American gets in trouble and ends up in jail for years.

I remember thinking thank god I was not in Turkey.

Guard number one, I called him quickly got on the phone. Guard number two, who still looked very upset, kept pointing the AK at me. God I hoped the safety was on. I slowly pulled out my passport. I showed it to the guard thinking that it might help. I waved it around like a magical shield. I said “I’m an American.” It didn’t help.

About ten minutes later, a well dressed “official” showed up with about 10 other guards. His uniformed fit. He looked rather young but damn official. The guards stood at attention with their AKs. The “official” quickly took my passport, my train ticket, my camera, my bag and gave them to some guards. Then he spoke to the original two guards and all of them left together, leaving me now with four guards.

I just sat there. And sat there. And sat on the hard wood floor for over an hour with no one talking, especially not me. Time stood still. My legs and back ached from my sitting position. I also needed the bathroom.

Then the “official” returned and in perfect English asked me “Why are you here?” I responded that I was going to Nanning and that I had been instructed to get off on the twenty-first stop. I told him that I could show him my map. I asked if I made a mistake.

He just nodded and stared at me. And then he walked away.

Over another hour went by, then another. My bladder was yelling at me. My legs hurt. My back was calling me names. And it was getting dark.

The official returned with two guards, who were carrying my stuff. MY STUFF! The official spoke to the assembled guards in Chinese and must have said something funny because everyone laughed. Well everyone except me. I knew the joke was at my expense because I heard “Gweilo” which is a Cantonese term for men of the caucasian race, and has a long racially deprecatory history of use and a few other not so polite words being spoken.

Then the official turned to me and spoke. “You are not welcome here. Please board the next train and return to Guangzhou. Do you understand?”

I stammered with relief that I did and then inquired about when the next train would arrive.

“Tomorrow” was all that was said and then the official turned and left with all but the two new guards. I had gotten everything back, except I noticed that my film was missing. I was shown a bathroom. Then I was returned to my place on the floor, but now I was able to lay out and at least had a book to read.

Two new guards arrived later in the evening and also were unhappy about my presence. The next morning came and my two original guards returned, but they also were unhappy. And my attempts of cigarette diplomacy with all of the guards were not successful.

The train did arrive late the next day and I got on. But this time, there was a conductor there to show me to my seat. And when I arrived in Guangzhou, I got to talk with a few other “officials.”

I never did make it to Nanning. I ended up meeting some Australians and my travel plans changed. I still have no clue where I was, but to this day, I always tell people that I spent 24 hours in the People’s Liberation Army.