The adoption of our second child from coincided just about perfectly with my retirement from the Air Force Reserves.  We were adopting from China and our return occurred some five days prior to the ceremony.

• Let’s start with alcohol, I wanted people drink if they wished.
• It was off base, so we didn’t have to worry about access.
• There were multiple types of alcohol.
• Most people can find something to eat at an Irish restaurant.
• Well, there actually a lot of alcohol.
• Auld Shebeen’s has a room big enough to have a ceremony, and
• I really wanted to have drink during at my own ceremony.

But the ceremony in itself concerned me. As mentioned, I really didn’t want to have one. A lot of folks don’t realize that there is no regulation that requires retiring military personal to have a ceremony, but someone in the unit got it in their crawl that I needed to have one! If I was going to bow to pressure, I might as well drink! 

A couple days later I was back to work and approached this person in question. I let her know about the discussion I had with my wife and told her about my change in heart. She was ecstatic!  The ensuing conversation went something like this:

“Where are we going to have it?” this young lady asked.

“How about an Irish pub,” I replied.

“Great, there’s one in Fairfax.”

“How about one in China?’

“We can’t have one in China.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve got clearances.”

“You do realize I’m about to travel to China?”

“Yes, but you’re about to retire. It really doesn’t matter at this point.”

“Maybe not here, but I still need one with my civilian job.  Besides, I had a clearance when we traveled for our first child, and I’ve renewed it since.”

“Fair, but what about travel costs?” she replied.

“Good point,” I concluded.  “Let’s have it in Fairfax.”  But, now I had this desire research Irish Pubs in China. Would it even be possible to visit an Irish pub in China, while adopting a child? Are there even any in China?  If so, how would I get there, especially if they weren’t close to our hotel?

That evening I began to research the three cities we would be visiting and see what options I had.  In Beijing, a city of 21.5 million, only one appeared in my Google search. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all that close to where we were staying.  Nanning, a city of 7.25 million had an English pub, but nothing Irish, and that too was nowhere close.  In Guangzhou, a city of 15.3 million, had three, one of which … Hooley’s Irish Pub … was located just a couple blocks from a subway stop. 

Then I thought to myself, “Self!  You know very well there’s a subway stop right outside of the hotel where we’ll be staying!”  From the information I gleaned online and an App for the Guangzhou subway, this seemed doable! With information in hand, I approached Aimee, told her what I wanted to attempt, and why.

“But from what I can tell, the subway seems easy to use. Western expats seem to use the system without much of an issue!” I countered,

“I think it’s just a little too risky.” The husband card got trumped, a minor dream began to fade.

But, even with my hopes dashed, I could still continue to dream, and did quite a bit of dreaming over the next several weeks until we finally arrived in Guangzhou, with our newly adopted little man in tow. It was then that I realized that an attempt had to be made!

“Honey, you know how I get something in my head it tends to stew. If I don’t try this, I’ll wind up kicking myself,” I challenged.

“I still think it’s too risky.  Besides, we were reminded that we shouldn’t wonder too far from the hotel.”

“If I can’t figure out how to use the subway, I’ll be right back.”

“Fine.  If you make it, please call me when you arrive and once more before you leave to come back.”

She sounded upset, and I hate to upset my wife, but I just couldn’t handle coming this far and not trying, so off I went.

One of the recommendations I’d seen on the internet was the use of the ticket vending machines. As I entered the subway station, that is just what I did. My first contact wasn’t as productive as I had hoped and turned my attention to the ticket counter.

Once there, I found a clerk who didn’t speak any English. I should have never assumed we could communicate, but I had become so accustomed to clerks who spoke at least some broken English in the United States, but that was not the case this afternoon! But, like many of the broken-English-clerks in the United States, he too looked at me as though I had an extra hand growing out of my forehead.  But, I wasn’t about to quit … not just yet.

I returned to the vending machine for another try. For some reason my comprehension of the written Chinese language hadn’t improved over the past 2-3 minutes, so I felt as though my adventure was about to come to an end!

But, as I was about to give up, something caught my eye.  There was a new clerk at the ticket counter!  Maybe, just maybe, my luck had changed!

As I caught this woman’s attention, it must have been obvious that this middle-aged white guy wasn’t a local.

“Excuse me Ma’am, may I buy a ticket?” I asked.

She then proceeded to tell me about here stock, with some of the best broken English I’d ever heard! “This one 24 hours, this one 3 days, this one a week, this one for a month.”

“24 hours?” I asked, pointing at the first card. She nodded.  “How much?”

“20 Renminbi.”

“For 24 hours?” I asked and she replied with a nod. The fact that a 24 hour subway card, in a large city, went for the equivalent of $3.20 mind boggling! “One please!” A moment later I was off with card in hand!

The next stop was the platform.  I quickly learned that all passengers had to place their bags on a conveyor belt and proceed through an x-ray machine, just like an airport.  I wondered what event occurred for this to become the norm, but quickly made my way through.

Once through, finding my way around the station was easy.  Rail lines in Guangzhou are oriented by color and number. Stations at the furthest ends were also listed which Indicate the direction trains at specific platforms are headed.  Also., the app I’d picked up prior to my travel proved to be invaluable. Before making my way to the pub, I needed to take a very specific picture.

A coworker and I had spent some time looking at the subway map two weeks prior. He pointed out a particular station and requested a picture of myself standing in front of the sign.  When I saw which one, my sophomoric mind kicked in and I really wanted to help out an equally childish coworker, which lead to a very touristy picture at the Longdong station.  I’m sure more than a few locals are aware of this linguistic snafu and shoot their heads at the stupid Americans who took their pictures around the same spot!

Once the selfie was taken, I hopped back on the train. One transfer and about 10 stations later, I was at my stop. Finding my exit, I quickly realized the map on the Pub’s website was not to scale, nor did I locate the best exit, thus began a long winding walk to the Pub.

Some 10 minutes later, I found myself at Hooley’s and let my wife know I was there.  As I walked through the door I was taken a little by surprise.  For some reason I found it odd that all of the few mid-afternoon patrons, at an Irish Pub, in Guangzhou China, were Caucasian.  Sadly, they didn’t even look Irish! Not a red hair between them! The only other folks present were the two bartenders, who were ironically Asian. The entire group glanced at the stranger in the door , shrugged me off, and went back to their business.

Feeling a little self-conscious, I ordered a pint of Punk IPA and took a seat. I later learned Punk IPA was English, and I found it exceptionally good, but my recent travels through Guangzhou’s hot, humid, climate may have had something to do with it. Id like to try that brew again just to verify!

I proceeded to take a couple pictures and began looking for souvenirs … shirts, shot glasses, etc. It didn’t take too long to realize there wasn’t anything for sale.  So, in my slightly buzzed confidence, I decided to take another approach … the glasses.

Each of the glasses used for serving had the restaurants logo on them, so I asked the bartender if I could buy a couple.

A confused look sprang across her face and she asked, “Why?” That really was a pretty good question.

The first couple things that crossed my mind were, “Just because,” “Why not?” and “I really don’t know.” But instead, I pointed to myself and said, “Tourist.  To take home. For a souvenir.  Memories.”

This poor young lady had to use a lifeline and made a quick call.  Seeing how I didn’t understand a word she was saying, I could only imagine the conversation that was taking place, my mind creating imaginary conversations the entire time! “Hey boss, you’ll never guess what happened. This chuckle-head walks in, buys a beer, and asks to buy a couple glasses … He’s a tourist … Yeah, I know how much we paid for them … Double it? … He might … Of course, we’ll definitely split the difference!”

As she hung up the phone, she turned to my direction, held up a finger and said, “Forty.”

“For one?” I asked and she nodded.  So I handed her 80 Renminbi for two and a little more for a second pint … which proved to be a great idea, especially since I was still fairly dehydrated and had to make my way through the heat and humidity in the fairly near future. But, in the meantime, I was feeling good, and better with each passing sip! 

As I finished the drink, I called Aimee to let her know I was leaving, and headed out the door. Then it hit. As I stepped from the air conditioning into the south China heat, my little buzz became big buzz, and I began to wonder what the penalty was in Guangzhou for being drunk in public.  Rather than return to the pub and wait it out, my mind thought it best to start walking to the station, which became a concern as I somehow navigated the two busy streets along the way!

But somehow I managed to make it safely to the station. As I entered and approached the guards, my drunk mind had an epiphany. The guards at the first station dealt with an American tourist.  These two were facing a drunk with two thick bar glasses in his backpack.  While the differences between these two are slight, my drunk confidence wondered what could go wrong!

But that didn’t stop my anxiety laden mind from wandering. Are Chinese police allowed to hit drunks? Do they have Miranda rights? Would I be innocent until proven guilty on this side of the Pacific? How about a phone call? Do I have a phone number for the American Consulate? Am I going to be the next stupid American with his face sprawled across American media? That would actually be a cool taking point! But how about food? Is it bread and water? Maybe a labor camp?

There was only one way to find out, and all of this should have crossed my mind a lot earlier, but as I stood there, I realized that I walking back to the hotel didn’t really sound like fun. So I took my chances with a potential international incident, placed my bag on the conveyor belt, and stepped through the x-ray machine when asked.  A tense moment later, the officer pointed to my bag and indicated that I could proceed. I smiled, said thanks, and headed off to the train.

Some 30 minutes or so later, I was back at the hotel, adventure complete, neither the consulate nor the media were aware, and after sharing my story with my wife, we headed off to dinner.

When we returned home with our beautiful new addition about a week later. I downloaded the pictures from Hooley’s and prepped an email to the coworker who pressured me into a ceremony. The pictures were accompanied by one little line, “Retirement ceremony for one, care of Hooley’s Irish Pub, Guangzhou, China.”