batting average

The other night I was driving home late from a friend's house... oh... maybe 1:00 am. I was waiting at a green light, because I didn't care to get creamed by the people who think that because it's the middle of the night, they don't need to obey the traffic signals anymore.

Sure enough, a car comes screaming through the red light, but something looks odd. This next part happens in about a 20-second interval

*begin counting*
I see a mass of scooters surrounding the car.
I see the passenger window opening on the car.
My eyes widen in disbelief and shock.
A baseball bat emerges from the car window, followed by the upper torso of a college-aged boy.
The boy starts whaling on the back of the scooter driver beside his car with the baseball bat.
I hear the thumps (sound delay... they've gotten some distance by now.)
I hear my own voice say, "God help me."
I take off after them in order to get the license plate number.
*stop counting*

Just as a disclaimer, I was *only* going to get close enough to read the plate, and then turn off and call the cops, but, I'm sure to my mother's relief, I happen to only have a 50 cc scooter, and of course, the car and the scooters were flying, and were soon nothing but a blur of tail lights.

So, I'm left wondering now whether or not to just call the cops anyway. I don't have a plate, but I could tell them the road I saw them turn off onto. They'll probably be long gone by now, but at least the cops could radio around the city and tell the others to keep on the look out for a silver sedan being driven by two kids, one a baseball bat-weilding psycho.

Just as I'm debating, I drive past two cops parked at 7-11. "There's my answer," I think. So I pull over and go and talk to them.

From the second I open my mouth, there seems to be a look of, oh, I don't know, mild amusement? on their faces. I still can't figure it out. Maybe they were thinking, "Well, gee, what do you know? White girls can speak Chinese after all," since I would imagine most of the ones they pull over during the day for traffic violations claim not to, whether they can or not.

In any case, it was soon very clear that they weren't really hearing a word I was saying.

"Excuse me," I started. "I just saw a car on that road right over there being driven by two college-age looking boys. One had a baseball bat and was beating people who were driving scooters. I didn't get their plate, but I saw them turn off onto Jian-Gong Road, heading west."

They just kept looking at me. "You know, it's also pretty dangerous for you to be out at this time of night," one of them finally said, that same look of amused curiosity on his face.

"Right." I could see this was going nowhere fast. As I got back on my scooter to leave, one of them suddenly seemed to remember his manners and walked over to ask me what road I had seen them on, more like he was asking after my health or the weather than really trying to ilicit any information, not to mention the fact that I'd already told him.

"Cheng-Ching Road, right?" he asked.

"No. Jian-Gong."

"Oh! Jian-Gong," he smiled and answered in the same tone you'd use when you'd just heard the name of an old aquaintance ("Oh! Nancy Rocky! She's an old friend of mine!)

And that was it. They never asked me the color of the car. They never asked if anyone was injured (there wasn't to my knowledge.) They never asked if I was ok. And I'm pretty darn sure no report was ever made.

Just to make sure my Chinese had been ok and all, I checked with a friend a couple days later by repeating what I'd said to the cops. He said I'd said, "baseball ball bat" instead of just "baseball bat" but it was still very understandable. My friend also told me that cops here are under pressure from superiors not to report *too much* crime. It will make it look like they don't know how to do their job.

If the shoe fits, hey?