A night out with the fellas

After work my guys Bill, Robin, and Erik take me to a local community hall for pool. I and my fellow expat Jeff are the only Caucasians in the place. We are first looked at with uncertainty, then disbelief, followed by acceptance. Laughter, loud chattering, and sweat permeate the air. We enjoy Tsing Tao out the can. Pull tabs of course while we play game after game of eight ball. I am able to impress my hosts with good play and strong breaks that lead to more high fives and back slaps. The warmth and kindness of our hosts is immeasurable, as I have found with the other 70 people in the office. I am treated with respect, graciousness, and good humor. It will be an honor to work with these people. As I mull this over I excuse myself during a game to use the restroom. While in a stall and while in mid stream I hear someone enter the restroom and turn on the sink. Suddenly it hits me, "Am I in the men's restroom or the women's restroom?" (Realize that a chinese bathroom is a tiled hole in the ground with a flush lever on the wall). I flush and wait for the person to leave, but they aren't going anywhere. I open the door and find myself staring face to face with a very surprised old woman. She looks at me frozen as the sink runs and I feel my face boil to a dark blush. I've scared her half to death. I wonder how many gwyjo she has run into in the women's bathroom at her local pool hall. "Many apologies!" I stammer as I try to conjure up an international hand gesture for "OOPS! I didn't know any better and I'm so sorry,"

To which she replies by pointing to a sign on the bathroom door with a bunch of chinese characters on it. Underneath, printed in plain english, WOMEN'S BATHROOM

ah good times.