The littlest baby stays hidden in her mother's arms for two hours. The other baby is like the main act in the three-ringed circus. Across from us, behind us, down the aisle, we (or should I say, the baby) draw attention from everywhere. The migrant workers laden with their belongings packed in rice bags as big as them simply stare. The young couples and recent graduates who have a bit of money take out their phones and take some pictures (usually they ask first). The older couples with their one child bring their children over to make friends. Another train boards through our aisle, meaning that practically everyone on that train gets a ticket to the circus.
Many ask questions and make comments, here's a rough translation of some that we hear: "Are they twins?" "How old are they?" "They're wearing so little, they must be cold." "They're used to the cold." "Russians." "Are you Italian?" "You look young." "American babies are so skinny. Our Chinese babies are fat (which is a good thing in this culture)."
We answer some, we ignore some, we talk with some, and we talk amongst ourselves. Two hours go by surprisingly fast, and once again, the aisle fills up. It's 5:15, there are still 30 more minutes until the train, so why is everyone so eager to line up? The young girl that our friend sent has stayed close by us. She tells us that the train will come soon and we should get ready. I look again at the display-board. Now the sign reads: 晚点：3小时30分钟. The girl hasn't seen it, and so I point it out to her. "Oh!" she says with a sigh. She's traveling to Ha'erbin to visit her grandmother, hopefully her grandmother has heard about the delay, too. And the line down the aisle, that's for another train.
We also hear from two other women from Har'erbin who had a 5:20 train leaving from another waiting hall, there's has been delayed about 2 hours also. At least we're not the only one's waiting.
At this point the babies have been fed and nursed (very discretely) but we're starting to get hungry. Since we still have another hour and a half to go, I volunteer to run out to the KFC that's right next to the train station. Leaving everything except for my purse and my ticket, I hop over the back of the chairs and escape from the circus. My steps are quick. It's 5:25, and what if the train time changes back to 2 hours and 30 minutes? I think I can make it. I hope it doesn't change. I make sure that my phone is handy, so I'll be able to hear it if they call to tell me to run back and catch the train.
The KFC next door to the train station is busier than the train station. 10 lines. Pick a line, hopefully you get the fast one. I do get the fast one, where the fries girl is fast talking, and her job seems more stressful than a stockbroker's. Before it's my turn, I do a bit of language decoding so I won't slow down her pace.
Suddenly, it's my turn. I spit out my order and it must be comprehensible, because 1 minute later I have 3 spicy chicken sandwiches and some chicken wings. Time to make my way back through the funnel! It's so crowded that I can skip the X-ray machine (don't want to loose the dinner, anyways), and take some quick steps back to the waiting hall. It's 5:45, and of course, they're all still there, waiting. I forgot to order the fries though!
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