Kindness from Within

     Speeding down the train tracks at 3:00am, we zoomed by various shades of purple and black moonlit rice patties as we raced towards Kunming. My successful arrival was never certain, for there were still five hours ahead of me on this godforsaken train. My companions were my only resource.

     On a journey such as the one I was on, there were countless instances of kindness on behalf of the locals, but sometimes, an especially memorable act of compassion comes from within – within the tour group that is.

     It came in intervals. Not so often as to seem continuous, but often enough to drive me insane. The light is what woke me up; woke me up to this miserable day. I lay in bed contemplating the necessity of the railroad-side lamps that so consistently woke me up on every train ride. In the time that it took me to discover that they had no use – which was no time at all – my stomach started to gurgle. My stomach gurgled as it had never gurgled before. The gurgle was incessant, continuing for minutes on end. After the gurgles stopped, the chest pains began. Followed only by the urgent need to…well…la duzi.

     On my dash to the closest lavatory, I spotted in the corner of my eye, a steady light beam wielded by Laura Platt. Upon first glance of this light-bearer, one might find her to be plain or ordinary, but there is nothing common about Laura Platt. Maybe it was her extraordinary compassion for fellow living beings, or maybe it was simply her boredom of being up at 3:00am writing in her journal that compelled my savior that night to check on me in the bathroom.

     Chinese train W.C.s should be used as toxic waste dumps, not a place to release human waste. The “squatter” is nothing more than a metal basin embedded in the floor of the 2 ft. by 2 ft. closet with a hole that empties directly onto the tracks beneath the car. As the train itself sways like a feather in the wind, a filthy little bar to hold on to is conveniently placed at squatting level, and, if you are lucky, you might get a toilet that flushes.

     This specific night, I was lucky enough to have my car directly in front of the hard-seater car. The hard-seater is the cheapest possible ticket available on the train. Our sleeper car provided a bed for everyone. The hard-seater car, on the other hand, was filled with seats about as comfortable as a park bench and was packed with people. The lower cost of their hard-seater tickets also meant that all their accommodations were… simpler, including their bathrooms. This was the rankest, grimiest train bathroom I had ever come across, and I knew from the get-go that being sick in there would not be fun. Hopefully, my illness would not last too long.

     I had a gut feeling, deep within me, that there was something inside me that needed to be brought out. Not through conventional means, but by the way in which it came in. I had a good 10 minutes warning before the first wave of barfing came. The bathroom was a quite a distance from my bed, so I did not have the luxury of waiting in my comfy berth. I instead had to find a place close to the bathroom. After a few quick glances of looking around, I realized there was nowhere else, only the floor of the hallway in front of the retched potty. Some may say that the train floor could be one of the world’s most disgusting places to park their bottom, but after traveling for two weeks without changing your cloths, it is not all that bad.

     There I was, three in the morning ready to puke, head between my knees, and incredibly tired. Suddenly the door that separated our car from the car I was presently sitting in burst open. At first I thought the train workers were coming to tell me that I was not allowed to just sit in the hallway, but then I saw her. As if an angel that was sent from heaven to bring light into this caliginous, rundown train car had just come in the door, Laura Platt strode in.

     “Are you okay? I saw you going to the bathroom a long time ago, and it was such a long time…”

     What should I say? Thank you for coming and checking on me so early in the morning?

     “Umm… I think I’m gonna puke.”

     With that, Laura sat down next to me and began telling me about the dream that had scared her awake and prevented her from returning to bed. I would relay that dream onto you, but I was so nauseous at the time that I was not really listening.

     Finally, I could not take the pain anymore, “If I could just throw up I’d feel much better.”

     Laura went to get me a Pepsi from the case that the teachers had brought with them as comfort for all the sick students, explaining that it should sooth my stomach. She returned with a liter bottle and I began to drink it. No sooner had I finished my second gulf, then I realized I was about to blow. I went into the bathroom and assumed puking-position. Three– two – one – Go! Yes, I was puking! For the last 10 minutes all I could think about was this moment. Wait a minute- should I be puking this much? Wave upon wave of barf hit me like a sledgehammer to my rib cage. Eventually I had nothing left to throw up, but my body insisted on trying. Laura stood right behind me the whole time and handed me tissues and said soothing things to comfort me.

     At around 3:30 I finished barfing and reclaimed my seat on the floor. Laura sat back down too.

     “You can go back to bed, Laura, I think I’ll be okay now.”

     “No, it’s okay, I’ll wait up with you.”

     We then began to discuss bits of SYA- related gossip we’d heard through the grapevine. Right as Laura was about to reveal the juiciest secret, another wave hit me. This sort of throwing up continued all through the night until 8:00am when the train arrived in Kunming. The whole time, I had Laura by my side, helping me make it through that miserable night.