Nothing is more ubiquitous in Beijing than the brigades of bao’an—the rent-a-cops in their off-teal floppy uniforms guarding (to use a verb loosely) the entrances and exits to apartment buildings, stores, construction sites, restaurants, offices, tourist sites, parks, markets, public urinals, random trees, and the occasional “lone wolf” bao’an standing at attention somewhere for no particular reason at all. Crouching under umbrellas or hiding in hastily constructed guard posts, they watch vigilantly for…I’m not really sure what. I am told constantly by Chinese friends that Americans must feel so unsafe living in the crime-ridden United States, but it is in Beijing where I see “guards” at each gate and where every apartment door is a steel plated monstrosity with wire mesh and three internal locks. When we were looking at apartments, the fact that our complex had a guard put us on another level (we were assured). Mostly it meant a higher rent. I’m not sure why. Our bao’an force consists mostly of four or five teenagers from Hebei slouching around the gates in uniforms—which are ‘uniform’ only in the sense that they are all uniformly two sizes too big—cadging cigarettes from each other. Unless they’ve trained at some secret