The Hangzhou Hassle

We had already lost a whole day of rekkying due to Dad's cancelled flight so arrived meaning business. Things went instantly wrong, as we were introduced to a whole new world of bad taxi driving. Our driver did not know where the hotel was and did not want to end his current phone conversation so started driving with both phones engaged. He was a charming man who did not understand the idea of distance, and consequently was bellowing replies very loudly as I calmly tried to talk to him. We reached our hotel at 7 PM, a reasonable time, only to find that our room had been given away because they thought we were coming at 1. No email, no call, nothing whatsoever to find out what was going on, they just handed it on to someone else. We were not happy and a heated argument ensued for the next half an hour until they booked us another hotel for the night. After a lot of anger and shouting/threatening/red-facedness we were sent to the Milan Hotel.
The Milan Hotel was a perfect example of a honeymoon gone wrong. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed my stay in it and grew rather fond of it, but it is without question one of the most ridiculous hotels in existence. Everything was soft, red-black-purple, velvety and generally lovey-dovey. The furniture was like that of a sadistic king's wife's and the walls were... Furry. Yes, furry. We felt it was only appropriate to name it, so in the future we referred to it with a variety of names: the Love Shack, the Porn House and Hangzhou Hugh's Happy House. The next day we spent 5 hours walking straight up trailless hills in order to create a hash trail. Getting to the place was surprisingly difficult considering that the city is built around a river and that the taxi could not find the river. We knew something was wrong when he drove around aimlessly for a while, then finally stopped by a completely random building, not by the river, and said "Dao le". We have arrived.
Upon return to Hongqiao Train Station that night, Dad and I tapped into our Chinese side a little when getting into the metro. It is custom in Shanghai to throw yourself, with great urgency and violence, into an empty carriage in the hope of getting a seat. We therefore barged through a few people while waiting, all the while elbowing the odd person, and launched ourselves in, arms flying, feet stomping and teeth bared. A man was trying to reserve seats on either side of himself but after knocking his friend to the side I sat on his hand and Dad sat on the either side, effectively sandwiching him between two big individuals with backpacks. 'Twas a glorious victory.
That same afternoon, I was highly amused by a phone call that Dad received from a very pushy salesman who hadn't been leaving him alone for the past few weeks. When Dad started getting annoyed, the man's response was "Take it easy, dude!"