Formosa: Hot-Head Summer

(This story contains physical violence and foul language.)

I'm sitting in a makeshift jail cell, feeling miserable. I believe this is just some random room in which the security guards sometimes take their breaks. The room is bare besides some cabinets, a counter space, and a table with some chairs. The air conditioning is weak, and there are no windows.

With my arms crossed, I let out a huge sigh. This is so unfair. What I want to do is to be inside the arena, like I planned to do, and scream my head off supporting the badminton duo who are fighting for their second Olympic Gold. I've been a huge fan of the duo since their last showing in Tokyo, but due to COVID-19 restrictions, no audience was allowed, and so this year, I am super pumped to get to see them play in person.

I gathered some like-minded friends, bought our tickets early, and even made a bunch of cheering banners.

When we arrived on the first day, all giddy with our flashy and beautiful banners that I had spent hours making, we were told that our banners were not allowed since they had the word “Taiwan” on them.

As Taiwanese citizens, my friends and I were not new to the idea that we could not celebrate our country visibly on an international stage. We even compromised so much as to sign up our athletes under “Chinese Taipei” to appease China and qualify for the Olympic games.

But to confiscate our banners just because there's a mention of our country's name? That just seems a bit too much.

“No political messages, only flags of countries and territories participating in the Games are allowed.” The security guard told us. Stone-cold bastards. We knew instantly this was pressure set down by China on the IOC; we've been operating as an independent and democratic country for generations, but China still refuses to acknowledge our break up. It's like being gaslighted for a century.

So we quietly marched into the arena, sans our banners, and tried to put our focus on the games.

Suddenly, the “jail” door swings open, and in comes a security guard escorting a young woman. She has a smudged-up image of Taiwan on her face, and the clearly irritated security guard is semi-wet. A mild scent of tea fills the stuffy room.

“Stay here. Think about what you did. Was it worth missing the game over?” As if we were children. “You too,” he glances over to me, “Why you gotta make us the bad guys, huh?” He shakes his head as he exits the room.

She gives him the side eye, takes a look at me, then sits down and stares into the wall. They've taken away our phones.

At the next game, my friends and I decided we could have some creative fun. We went to the store and bought new materials for banners. We wrote in phonetics instead of Mandarin characters, drew signature Taiwanese foods, and arranged them into the shape of our island; we thought we were being clever.

When the security guard told us again that our banners were not allowed, I felt my blood pressure spike up. “Why?!” I yelled.

“This says, 'Taiwan', don't be smart with me,” he had a visual translator.

“No one is being smart! We just want to support our team!” My friend tugged at my sleeves, but I ignored it.

“You can support them by following the rules!” The security guard wasn't going to back down.

“These are bullsh*t rules, and you know it!”

“Sir, please calm down.”

“What?! You're so afraid of China?! What, you think they'll come get you just because you let us have a sign?”

“Sir, please step aside.” My friends managed to grab me and move me away from the guard, but as if a bomb had exploded within me, I broke away from their arms and charged right at the security guard.

I didn't know what I was going to do, maybe punch him, grab his collars, or just give him a good shove, but it didn't matter because I was held down by three other guards who were drawn over by the commotion.

And now I'm sitting here, for a “crime” not severe enough for the police but significant enough for punishment, and missing the game. I look over to my “cellmate”; she is paying no attention to me.

She has a ponytail under her green cap, and she's wearing a green T-shirt, faded jeans, and neon-colored sneakers. She is slouched in her chair with two arms dangling over the armrests and her legs stretching out. How she does not seem stressed about missing the game is surprising to me.

“So what did you do?” I figure we might as well converse to kill time.

She starts to chuckle. Then she stands up abruptly, makes a huge roar, and punches the wall.

This leaves me in shock, I don't think I've ever met anyone whose temper changes quicker than mine.

“Eh...are you okay?” I have to admit I'm intrigued.

“I'm fine!” Her voice is bright with a sweet undertone, which betrays her sounding anger.

“They make you wash your face?” Referring to the smudged image of Taiwan on her cheek.

“Oh, they can try! What a load of crap!”

“That's what I said!”

She looks at me, “They took your banners?” I nod.

“Arrgghh!” She continues to vent, her calmness a few seconds ago was just camouflage. “How much longer do we have to endure this sh*t?! This BULLYING! This pettiness! IT'S NOT FAIR!”

This gets me nodding and agreeing. “It is SO unfair! You would think this is a place for sportsmanship, a place where we all come together and play games to celebrate humanity. But nooooooo...everything must be political!”

“That's right! Seriously!” She is also nodding. Then she chuckles again, “I dumped my iced tea on the security guard.”

“Haha, that's pretty awesome!” We share a good laugh.

“Well, it felt pretty awesome. Except now we're stuck in this place.” She starts to pace around the room. “What about you? Did you hit the guy or what?”

“Oh, I tried to. But I didn't succeed like you did.” Then, “My name is Roger, by the way.”

“Roger? Why?”

“It sounds like my Mandarin name, Luo-Jie. Chen Luo-Jie”

“I'm Elspeth. I got it from an Agatha Christie novel. Mandarin name is Jia-Wen. Wang Jia-Wen.”

“I can't believe we're missing the game.”

“I'm so angry I don't even know what to do.” She sighs, “There's not even anything in this room for me to trash it!” She starts to kick over the chairs.

“I can help with that.” I get up and start kicking as well. Then I proceed to open all the cabinets. There are a few things stored in there: some tissue boxes, printer paper, plastic cups, and pens; we throw them all on the floor.

“This is starting to feel good,” she starts to stomp on the fallen items.

At this point, I feel, for the first time in my life, the sensation that people described as encountering a kindred spirit.

“Does your family tell you that you have anger issues?” I ask amusingly. “Because mine does, like all the time.”

“They try to make me special teas,” she smiles and looks at me with the expression of someone who feels understood by another.

“Sends you to the Buddhist meditation hall?”

“My parents are Christian, so my mom wouldn't stop praying about it. She gossips about it with all her church friends, too.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well, I can tell you that being stuck in a meditation hall is not fun at all, either. Have you ever tried boxing?”

“No, is that what you do for release?”

“Yeah, it always helps me feel lighter afterward.” A quick pause. “Would you be interested in joining me?”

She smiles at me, and my face feels hot again, “I mean, when we get back to Taiwan, of course. But if you want to hang out here in Paris, I'm down for that, too. I've been here a few times so I can show you to some nice places here, too.” I'm spiraling. “But if you already have plans with your friends or your family, that's alright, I'm just saying..."

“I would love to. To all the things you just mentioned.” She saves me. Her expression is filled with curiosity. "When you were in school, were you in the principal's office a lot?"

It's my turn to chuckle, "Yes." And preserving my words to save myself from my previous embarrassment.

"Me, too! Once, my punishment was study hall in the principal's office for every recess and gym class for a whole semester."

"Wow, what did you do?"

"I found out a quiet girl in my class was being bullied by another girl. She would force her to do all her homework and her community work and make her cheat for her on exams; she'd get beat up if she didn't comply. I accidentally saw her suicide note. So I grabbed the mean girl's desk, tossed it out from our classroom on the second floor, and when she confronted me, I punched her so hard her nose broke."

"Wow. Served her right."

"Seriously!" She looks at me with an excitement that's fueled by relief.

"I had to run three thousand kilometers every morning as my punishment once. Six laps in the field every day for about half a semester."

"Brutal."

"I also punched someone, so the teachers figured I had excess energy to burn; it was supposed to be for the whole term, but they kinda gave up halfway through because the weather got hot."

"That's pretty hilarious. Why did you punch that person?"

"Well, technically, we fought; it was just that I won the fight, and he was on the ground when we were broken up, so it looked like I was just hitting him. The guy was an asshole. We were part of the Arts Club in school, and as the club leader, he would abuse his powers, particularly over this new kid; he'd made him do all the cleaning, insulted his work constantly, and a whole lot of verbal abuse. One day, I asked him to stop, he got into my face, and the next thing I know, I was punching his face."

"Oh, I HATE power trippers!"

"Right?!"

She walks closer to me, sits on the floor, and gestures for me to do the same. I happily comply. I feel as if we are school kids again, bonding over our teenage ideals.

“So you said you've been in Paris a few times, huh?”

“Yeah!”

“That's interesting. What do you do for work?”

“I paint.”

Her dark brown eyes brighten up. “That's so cool! I'm a photographer. But I've always loved painters!” Then her face turns bright red, to my delight. “I mean...haha...where would I be able to see some of your paintings?”

“It would be my pleasure to show them to you when we're back.” I flash my best 'cool dude' smile and instantly feel self-conscious. “I'd love to see your work, too!”

A few moments pass as we look into each other's faces, savoring the serenity of being with someone who's on the same wavelength.

“Alrighty, you trouble-makers,” the moment is cut short by the security guard's entrance. “The game's over. You can go now. Here are your phones. Now scram, please.”

After we approach the crowds, we realize that the Taiwanese badminton duo have won their second gold. There is a huge burst of celebration outside the arena, with people shouting, cheering, and tearing up.

“Looks like we missed a big one, huh?” I said.

“Yeah.” She scrunches up her face a little.

“Somehow, I don't feel that I've missed out too much.” I don't think I've ever been so bold.

She laughs, the most pleasant sound I've ever heard. “Me, neither.” Then she turns to me, “So, I'm here with my family; they're actually leaving tomorrow morning, but...I'm staying back for a few more days. Would you like to...show me around Paris?” Her face is so pink that I almost hug her.

“I would LOVE that.” I feel the butterflies exploding in my stomach. “Let me walk you to your family.” I've never felt the urge to hold someone's hand until now.

Of course, her family greets us with the expected curious but knowing expressions. It's a good thing we have exchanged all our information before meeting them.

Before we part ways, she flashes me with the cutest coquettish smile, “So you'll come pick me up tomorrow?”

My heart bursts into confetti and I feel a bit dizzy, “Yes. I can't wait.”

I cannot wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day; Even after enduring all the teasing from my friends.

I think this just might turn out to be the best summer, ever.