CHINATOWN

At around 12:57 am this morning, after the conclusion of a satisfying celebration of my birth with some close friends, my mobile device emitted its last feeble beep before settling into an eternal slumber. No amount of flinging it across the room could resuscitate this fixture of my life. Hitting it repeatedly against the edge of a table, similarly, elicited no response. Thus, after staring blankly at its dim screen for close to an hour, I resolved to give it an appropriate burial and promptly launched it with great might into the gaping maw of my trashcan. Such crap does not deserve to be recycled.

Although I fancy myself fairly independent in that I’m not entirely reliant upon companionship, I also recognize that I would have no understanding of my own existence were it not for my place in a greater community of Others; wasn’t it Sartre who posited the notion of a mirror-effect? Admittedly, I could have done without this means of instantaneous communication for the next few weeks, but why subsist right? I’ve always been a fan of immediate gratification anyway. With that in mind, I set off to (horror of horrors) Chinatown this afternoon in search of an adequate replacement.

I had my first taste of China(town) during the express ride there, where I was squished into a corner of the train by little old ladies wheeling gigantic produce-filled carts. I beamed at this reminder of East Asian wet markets, but bemoaned my lack of standing space. Emerging from the subway, my olfactory glands were furthermore assaulted by the putrid odor of rotting seafood and human byproduct. I staggered along Bayard as I struggled to channel respiration orally. Upon finally regaining composure, I continued on my quest for the coveted Unlocked Mobile Phone.

After about fifteen minutes of weaving in and out of unmarked backstreets, I soon realized I was quite lost and could no longer orient myself. Seeking a respite from the humidity, I decided to step into what appeared to be an air-conditioned space and was immediately teleported to Hong Kong. I’d like to describe what I ventured into as a “mall”, but the word doesn’t adequately reflect the reality of it. It sort of reminded me of the labyrinthine communities housed within the Chung King Mansions in Kowloon, albeit on a smaller scale; entire lives could be lived without exposure to the natural elements.

Rows of narrow storefronts lined never-ending passageways and the glare of florescent light drenched everything in sight. There was a curtained clinic at the top of one escalator, and right next door, a pharmacy with a long line of sickly people spilling forth. The manifold stores were typical of the sort found across East Asia or within predominantly Chinese enclaves; stores that sold neon-colored, single-sleeved polyester tops embedded with cheap diamante, and the like. The walls were also covered in mirrors that reflected the visual cacophony of glaring lights and colors. It was maddening.

My familiarity with the type of environment evoked a pleasant feeling, like a visit to an ancestral home. I also suspect spaces like this one might be prototypes for future urban living. I’m not usually so doom and gloom, but having recently watched the animated feature Wall-E, I’ve been musing about the prospect of an atmosphere so polluted it’s become incapable of sustaining life. Within a built environment, air will be filtered, temperatures may be controlled, the threat of rain nullified, and so on and so forth. By fabricating our habitats, we gain an added advantage in controlling our (collective) destiny.

I finally left the Blade Runner-esque fantasy and ventured out into the “fresh” air. It had started to rain by then and I fumed as I kept getting caught behind groups of ambling denizens and gawking tourists. I finally found a place that would sell me the contraband I so desired, although at a price I would rather not have paid, but I yielded out of desperation. I am now, once again, equipped with a phone. I’m also satiated from an exquisite dinner with the roommate (duck confit and goat cheese salad was to die for) and about to turn into bed. All is well with the world.