China Town at Midnight

China Town, San Francisco, California---I started to think it was a figment of my imagination. I was searching for an arch way into China Town, a coffee shop attached to the end of the arch. As I looked for this exact spot within China Town, within San Francisco I had to realize how long it had been. I was so young, I thought. 34 years ago…was it possible? I kept re-counting the years to be sure as I walked up and down the streets of this packed tourist destination in the middle of Memorial Day Weekend.

It had been my first plane ride out of Kansas for a college journalism convention. Our hotel was blocks away from China Town. My best friend, Bonnie and I had explored enough to know the immediate area as well as skipped sessions to see Alcatraz and visit Sausalito.  It was also the first time we had spent time in a hotel bar. For my first mixed drink ever, I had requested a Grasshopper. Seriously? I have no idea why except I had seen it ordered in a movie. I thought it sounded so sophisticated.  Later when I was throwing up green I regretted watching ANY movie ever. I have never had a Grasshopper since.

But at some point the next night, I had got it up my sleeve to slip away into the night and go explore China Town. I knew it was nothing my college advisor or friend needed to know about and that I needed to take caution. So I thought I should dress to "blend in" so I wore a pair of overalls, a rainbow striped top and my hair tucked under a baseball cap. This was long before rainbow stood for what it does today so I simply looked like a bad version of Lilly May from The Beverly Hillbillies that lost a fight with a leprechaun. I certainly didn’t blend in.

I made my way to the entrance of China Town where there was a Chinese arch that spanned the street as a gate to the area. On one corner there was my destination; an open all night restaurant and coffee shop.  I had decided that I would sit there, have a cup of coffee and watch people. The diner was old and run down with a linoleum floor and metal tables and chairs. It could have been any truck stop restaurant along any highway USA but this was China Town. At midnight. There was an old lady sitting alone and staring out the window drinking coffee. A gruff-looking pudgy old man sitting with his back to me finishing a meal and the waitress, a not-so-friendly middle aged woman that seemed annoyed that I had come in.  Nobody was Chinese.  I sipped on my coffee and wondered what life the old woman had had. She looked so sad and alone. Her cloths were old but she did not look homeless.

Suddenly the man behind me leaned his chair back and mumbled something to me. I remembered it startled me and I asked him to repeat it. This time I clearly heard; “Fifty dollars.”

I started to say, “Fifty dollars for what?” and got mid-sentence and realized that this man thought I was a prostitute.

I remember standing up, facing him and in one big sentence I said something like, “What! I’m not that, I’m from KANSAS! and I’m at a journalism conference and I’m in China Town to watch people because I write for my student paper and I want to watch people and I want to write a story and, and, and.”

Red-faced, the man asked me to please sit down and stop talking so loud. He repeatedly apologized but said that anyone there at that hour he just assumed to be a prostitute.

I turned my chair and looked at him with pity. From there I "interviewed him,"  but until now, have never written the story. He was a cargo ship captain based in the harbor, divorced with children that he never saw. You could tell by his face and leathery hands that he had lived a hard life. I asked him why he would go to a prostitute in the first place and he said he was lonely. I told him to go to church. I told him to stop doing that and find someone real to love. I never knew his name and never would see him again but for a moment we connected. I, as a kid who felt sorry for this man and he, as a man who needed hope.

After the exchange, I got up and asked him if he had a daughter. He said he did. I asked him how old she was. Turned out she was my age. So I told him that. He was speechless and I turned and left.

Back at the hotel, Bonnie had made it back to the room from the hotel bar and had been terribly worried. I remember she let me have it.

And 34 years later I’m back searching for this little spot in China Town.

Then I saw it far at the end of a block. It was THE arch. I quickly walked towards it full of anticipation wanting that coffee shop to be there. But when I reached it, it was now a very high end antique and chandelier shop. I slowly walked in studying the ceiling and walls. Was this it? My senses said it was but the surroundings were the complete opposite.  The store keeper walked over and I took a chance on him knowing and asked.

“By any chance was this a coffee shop about 34 years ago?”

A long silence followed as his eyes looked up and he was obviously full of thought…”Yes,” he hesitated, “I believe you’re right. It was on this side, in this spot." His speech picked up as he was recalling.  "It was the only restaurant that did not serve Chinese food! It had eggs. There was no place in China town to get a good fried egg breakfast except here!”

I hadn’t planned to tell him the story but he was so nice and between our conversation and his curiosity about my asking, it all came out. He laughed and told me about how China Town had changed. That it had evolved.

I stood for a moment to remember the young daring me who walked to China Town at Midnight to get a cup of coffee. Then with a smile, crossed the street and walked into Starbucks.