It’s hard to miss them. They have clever names and DIY-style decorating; hand-written menus and slow, inattentive service; usually quite small and filled with Zhōng  Nán  Hǎi  (中南海) cigarette smoke; cheap Yanjing beer and clouds of billowing charcoal smoke. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you haven’t taken much notice of what restaurants the Beijing youth are frequenting these days.

It’s food on a stick. And it isn’t limited to the hip hangouts of Beijing’s youth. You can hardly take a step in the city without running into a smoky chuan’er (串儿) stand or a  má  là  tàng  (麻辣烫) joint surrounded by ravenous young ladies. Late night stalls pumping out lamb and chicken of all sorts (hearts, cartilidge, wings, etc.) feed the night owl youth of Beijing. Perhaps as a way to save time or an affront to traditional dining styles, food on a stick has become a way of life in Beijing.

In fact, Beijing may have even surpassed Xinjiang as the food-on-a-stick capital of China. Armies of workers tirelessly stick raw meat on environmentally-unfriendly wood skewers during the day. At night, the carnivores come out, and behind them leave a trail of bones, wood skewers, and cigarette butts. By morning, all traces of the meat-eating have vanished, along with the carnivores themselves. By morning, the old folk are back on the streets buying real food – like vegetables.

Chuan'er!

The epitome of food-on-a-stick restaurants is the hugely popular Hot Bean Cooperative 炒豆合作社. Buckets of chicken wings (on metal skewers) are served to the elderly-challenged customers on the no carb diet. Walking in their footsteps are dozens of Hot Bean wannabes that have somehow been convinced that post-it notes are a form of decoration.

For the real deal food-on-a-stick experience, though, stay away from the trendy spots. To really enjoy the 串儿, pick an outdoor stall with tiny plastic stools, piles of skewers laying around, and a  xiǎo  mài  bù (小卖部) nearby with 2 kuai beers. Light up a smoke, rip into some freshly seared meat and let the èr  huà  yīn (儿化音) fly.

Just when you thought your taxi commute was going to be a breeze because of the odd and even license plate restrictions, they had to go and open Olympic lanes 20 days before the Games even start. Don’t get me wrong, the lanes designated for officials, athletes and Olympic committee members are a good idea, especially in a city that is infamous for its horrendous traffic situation. But it’s the timing that gets to me.

Firstly, the games haven’t even begun yet. That means at least one of the the two groups of people (athletes, that is) wont be using the lanes until the games actually begin. Meanwhile, everyone that commutes on any of the 268 kilometers of road with the ‘Five-ring Logo’ painted on them will have one more reason to be less enthusiastic about the Olympics.

Also, opening the lanes so prematurely has even graver consequences.  The whole reason the odd and even restrictions were put in place was for reducing the tons of CO2 emissions that turn Beijing’s air into pea-soup. But emissions are closely related to the amount of time a car is on the road. The less cars are sitting idle, the less emissions we have to breathe.

So let’s open those lanes back up to the Laobaixing 老百姓 until the Olympics actually begins. We’ll have a more pleasant commute and breathe easier. The only problem will be that officials will have to wake up earlier to get to their plush offices and banquet lunches.