“Hei1 Che1″, or literally “Black Vehicle”, is what you call illegal taxis in China.  Now, I will use these cars every so often.  Many people advise against using them for safety reasons.  Everyone has heard of stories of the “black taxis” who take someone somewhere and rob them.  I’ve used these cars a good bit, but in what I consider, safe situations.  Like in broad daylight, on a short route I know, and in places where I know multiple black taxis operate without incident.  For example, if I’ve bought some bulky items from the Hua Qiao Cheng Walmart, I’ll walk outside, looking for a guy standing around holding keys.  We make eye contact and I tell him my apartment name and offer the standard 10 RMB.  Never had any problems, and I’ve even picked up the business cards of a few.

Last night, upon returning from Hong Kong, I was tempted to take another, but started thinking that the situation was a bit more dangerous.  So I pulled the ripcord and got outta there, much to the anger of the would-be driver.  In Hong Kong, I repeated a routine that I enjoy:  Go to a coffee shop in Wanchai near the Admiralty station, buy a cappuchino, and sit for 2-3 hours enjoying the high speed internet.  I also enjoy meeting up with some folks for dinner at some local place.  Hong Kong is always enjoyable; it’s a nice, close escape into a more Western world that’s welcome every so often.  The coffee joint makes me feel like I’m back in Seattle.  Not that I miss Seattle so much, but it’s a nice reminder.  I also went to one of the big music stores to buy some guitar electronics (basically cheaper than China, prices are comparable to the US) and brought my backpack for “smuggling” it back into China (had to leave the box at the store).

So, I thoroughly enjoyed my evening in Hong Kong, but I took the train back to Shenzhen a little too late to catch the subway.  It was close; I arrived at 11:15, most likely it was too late, but I took a look anyway.  Yes, closed.  This basically meant I needed to take a taxi.  A man at the entrance to the subway told me it was closed and asked where I was going.  Obviously, he was a “hei1 che1″ driver.  I told him “Hua2 Qiao2 Cheng2″, which is the area that I lived.  He offered 50RMB, which is a reasonable price.  I didn’t make any signs, but he started motioning me to follow him, I did.  We went past the bus station, I looked at a few of the busses, they all looked closed too.  Lots of people were lined up for legit taxis.  And here I was following some guy, carrying some new guitar electronics, my iPhone, wallet and cash, passport, my laptop!  So, I started thinking, “This isn’t so wise.”

He led me out into the chaotic street and started making some phone calls.  My US-politically-correct conditioned brain was trying to tell me that I shouldn’t be suspicious, don’t judge, blah blah.  But, one quick incident late one night on the dark streets of Quito, Ecuador back in 2001 taught some friends and I the folly of that attitude (no damage or losses incurred, thankfully).  So, I started asking for a business card.  He blew me off and just pointed at the phone.  He then asked me to stand with him basically in the middle of the road.  They were coordinating a pickup of some kind.  In retrospect, I’d say that the chances that this was legit was probably higher than some sort of scheme, but for the difference in price of a legit taxi versus the illegal taxi made the risk involved ludicrous.  Besides, it was late at night, I’m in LuoHu, and it’s a long distance.  The only thing I had going for me, was that I knew the proper route, but that’s hardly an intelligent advantage to seize.  I saw taxis coming by and made eye contact.  One stopped and I asked how much to Hua Qiao Cheng (you can go off meter and bargain at late hours) to which he replied “60 RMB”.

I made the decision and jumped in.  The other guy tried to keep me by pleading (at least he wasn’t blocking the door).  He then shouted through the window at the taxi driver.  I couldn’t tell what was being said, but it was loud.  The taxi driver responded and the guys face became flushed with anger.  As I yelled, “Go! go!”, he frantically scraped at the ground picking up some bits of gravel and heaved it into the car.  The driver tried to dodge the car as he sped away but bits of shrapnel hit us.  The taxi driver then yelled something at me, to which I just apologized, “Sorry sorry!”

I was a little shocked, but glad at the choice.  I had about twenty minutes of peace listening to some music, but then jumped out into more chaos in my neighborhood.  OK, it wasn’t so bad, but some young man started to make friendly conversation with me.  “What’s he up to?”, I thought.  Eventually, he got to the point and asked, “I’m hungry, can you buy me some food?”  I’ve heard this one multiple times now.  I just responded “Bu yao, bu yao” (“no no”) with a smile.  He seemed to realize that I was wise to the scheme, and gave me a friendly, “Mei wen ti, bye bye.” (“No problem, bye bye” – yes, they say “bye bye” here).

Ah, back in Shenzhen!