I’m writing this post in a sort of frantic state right now.
Allow me to set the scene for you: I’m about an hour into a 16-hour ride to Shanghai on a sleeper train with three fellow bunkmates, one of whom is Zibby. Another is a relatively mild-mannered guy of about 30 who’s in the bunk above me. He seems to be largely keeping to himself, and I don’t think he speaks any English, so communication is pretty limited (unless of course I want to greet him, thank him, or politely request that he not take my kidney). All fine by me.
But the third bunkmate, an older, businessman-looking type to whom I’ll henceforth refer as the Night Walker, is threatening to make this an extremely long journey.