I’m still undecided whether, in net, living in Shanghai is safer than, say, New York City. Sure, there are plenty of random chemical smells. Yes, my office in the outskirts of Shanghai is right next to a nuclear power plant (“The…. Siimmmmmpppsons…”). But personal safety (vis-a-vis violent crime) is much better in Shanghai than in most major US cities. There’s, after all, no allowance for widespread gun ownership. And in general things just feel much safer. You can walk most places at night without feeling in danger. You’re much more likely to be hurt in Shanghai by the general disregard for health and human life than by violent crime.
Then again, once in a while you run into things that make you think twice. I spoke to a coworker in Beijing last week who, while living in Park Plaza Hotel near Zhongguancun, entered an elevator that fell 17 stories when its cable snapped. He stepped in, heard some elevator workers overhead, then suddenly experienced a loud snapping noise followed by 12 stories of free-fall.
This was no amusement park ride. This was Life in Shanghai.
After falling 12 stories, the emergency brakes kicked in near the fifth floor. The elevator slowed a bit from its blistering downward path, but not enough to prevent a hard impact at the bottom of the shaft. He bounced off the floor hard, getting cuts on his scalp, lips, and face. He then staggered out of the elevator, bleeding everywhere, and simply went up to the concierge.
“You should really get that elevator fixed.”
And he limped away. For several days afterwards he took the stairs. But he’s now back to normal.
This is probably the closest first-hand account of a near-death experience that I have ever personally run into. I’m amazed and fascinated by the possibility of being confronted with only a few seconds of time to square one’s life away and prepare for instant death. This coworker of mine took it remarkably well.
It of course doesn’t help that I’ve stayed at the very same hotel in Beijing. Perhaps next time I stay there, I’ll be sure to ask for a room on the lowest floor possible. Then again, maybe that’d be a mistake: since the elevator’s emergency brakes took 12 stories of free-fall to kick in, it’d probably be wisest for me to ask for a room on the highest floor possible, thereby giving the brakes a bit more time to work their magic.
