I never ever get sick of this place and in a weird way, I’m glad I got stuck here. Even if it was my own fault. Mind you my wife thinks I did this on purpose. Which I swear I didn’t.

The thing I love about HKG is well, that it’s still HKG. The DNA is still the same, even if the physical landscape has changed a bit (ok a lot) and the world is dragging us kicking and screaming into the digital age. I mean I miss the old airport. Who doesn’t.

The Peninsula – that Grand Old Lady of a hotel – still has a fleet of Rolls Royces and apparently there is an astonishing view from the mens bathroom on the top floor of the place. However after all the food I’ve eaten over the past 2 or 3 days, the last thing I have time to look at is the view.

It’s a shame that the old Regent hotel is now the InterCon. A real shame. The MTR is still a model of how all cities should approach mass transit. And the Octopus card is a work of technical brilliance.

But a HKG cabbie is still a HKG cabbie. You will simply not find exceptional rudeness like this anywhere else. They make Basil Fawlty look like the Dalai Lama. I love using them. Want to pay with a credit card – driver says get out. Don’t speak Cantonese – get out. Want to put 7 people inside. Ok, get in. They just don’t give a flying toss.

Even their approach to Uber is typical HKG. I’ve been using them a fair bit during my stay and I always strike up a conversation with the drivers.

“How long have you been driving Uber here?” I quizz
“About 6 months”
“Do you like it?”
“Not much. Part time job”
“I see”

I then heard from someone else that Uber is illegal here. So I ask a driver

“Chief, someone told me Uber is illegal in Hong Kong. Is that true?”
“Yes”, they say gleefully
“Then what happens if you get caught”
Shrug of the shoulder
“Dunno” comes the matter of fact reply.

It’s the typical Cantonese way. Commerce is a religion here. Always has been. Always will be.

The sights. The smells. The sounds. It’s uniquely HKG. Unlike Singapore, which is Asia for beginners, Hong Kong has a real, defining character to it. If by chance you haven’t yet visited, put this place on your bucket list. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

My son, after hearing of my predicament seemed to be the only member of our household who showed any genuine interest in my well-being. Apart from the fact that he thinks his compensation for an emergency evacuation should be a new car.

He called me and said.

“Dad are you ok?”
“All good. I’m at Graham and Paul’s. Very trendy. Their housekeeper is taking good care of me”
“Do you want me to help you?”
“Help me how?”
“I can fly to Hong Kong with your green card”
“Really”
“Sure”
“Have you got time?” I said with just a hint of sarcasm
“Yes, I’ve cleared my schedule”
“You have a schedule?”
“Yes, I’m a busy man”
“I’m sure you are”
“And hypothetically speaking, how much might this courier run cost me?”
“How about $500”
“Are you insane!”
“Yes, and via NRT” he said matter of factly
“Really, you want to fly to HKG via NRT”
“Yes, that’s all that’s available in J. I checked”
“So let me get this straight, I have to pull a J class award ticket for you to HKG via NRT, and then fork out $500 in cash, plus pay for the $2500 worth of food you will consume on the way here to rescue me”
“That’s about it”
“You’re a bigger idiot than me”

I changed my return flight yesterday, or was it the day before (I forget), after I technically missed the original CX routing home. The nice lady at AA found me a flight this Sunday from HKG to NRT on JAL in J, and then again on JAL in F to LAX. And then a frightfully long layover in LAX before I connected with an AA flight back home to DEN.

When I was told by FedEx that the soonest I could get my little piece of plastic was going to be Monday HKG time, I had to throw that reservation out the window and start again. So now I’m back on CX again from HKG all the way to LAX and then another stupidly long layover to wait for AA to send a plane to grab me.

I was kinda looking forward to JAL across the water. But CX F is not the worst thing there is. And besides I’m looking forward to catching up with the same staff who wouldn’t let me board on Thursday.

When I check in tomorrow or the next day, I’m going to tell them all that I forgot my passport this time and see what they say. Just for kicks.

Before the world went slightly crazy, more persistent people than me probably could’ve pulled this off. You know, getting on the plane bit. Logically, I had my passport, I had a copy of my green card credentials, the US Federal Government has been crawling up my bottom with one of those slightly scary looking Shark vacuum cleaners ever since I arrived and to prove that I am practically a “Murrican” I married one of their citizens and produced 2 slightly needy and therapy bound children. I couldn’t be more red, white and blue if you paid me. I even admit to liking Country Music.

Normally when you check in, all you need to do with a Green Card is show it to someone and they enter the number into the system and presto, you’re all set. You don’t need to show it to the grumpy immigration people when you leave HKG or Australia because as far as they are concerned, and for the most part, they are looking forward to seeing the back of you.

Had I been allowed to board in HKG, I’m sure that I wouldn’t have been arrested when I got stateside. At least not initially. I’ve already been dragged off for countless “secondary” screenings, which is sort of like going to the Doctors when you are a kid and being told to drop your strides and cough twice. Not the most unpleasant thing in the world but not something that makes you want to rush out and tell the Twitterverse.

Lets go sideways for a minute. Not that I ever stick to a script anyway. So as I was contemplating life this morning on the toilet, in a bathroom with a lot of potpourri and matching hand towels, I was thinking this really is the only time travelling where I have forgotten something which has literally stopped me in my tracks.

It could have been way worse. For one, I got grounded in one of my most favorite places in the Universe. I have friends here. And even a cousin somewhere. I know my way around when I’m sober. I love the food (you know that already). And you can buy beer at every 7-Eleven, and since there are 900 of these convenience stores peppered all over the island, you wont go thirsty for very long. What more could I possibly need.

My daughter is in another country. Just far enough away. My current wife is in another country also. Nearly far enough away. And my son is – well, to be honest, I have no idea where he is. But he cant have gone too far, because the child eats like a Sumo wrestler and now that he’s driving he needs to stay somewhat close to the house given that he still depends on his parents for food. And gas money.

In an attempt to try and teach him some life skills, I did make him get a job this summer. And I did teach him how to drive a car. Actually that happened a while ago, but I digress.

He works at the local bar/restaurant we go to. It is a terrific place. He has started where all teenagers should start. In the kitchen. Washing dishes. After he had his first orientation, he came home with a big grin on his face.

“Dad, this is going to be a great job”
“It is?”
“Yes”
“Why?”
“Because you get a free meal and you can drink as much Mountain Dew as you want”
“Really”
“Yes, and its free”
“Yes, you told me that already”

He's convinced that the restaurant owner is going to go broke as a result of feeding all the staff and letting them drink as much soda as they wanted.

“How much are you getting paid?”
“No idea”
“They didn’t tell you when you went for the interview?”
“I dunno, they might have”
“Do you not remember?”
“Dad, who cares. You get a free meal and unlimited pop”

After the first real shift he came home, exhausted. I asked him,

“So how did it go?”
“Terrible” he exclaimed
“Why, did you not get your free meal and all the Mountain Dew you wanted?”
“Yes” came the reply. But he seemed nowhere near as excited as he was the first time he told me this.
“Then what happened?”
“The lady who was supposed to work with me couldn’t speak any English. And then after about an hour, she ran away”
“She what??”
“She ran away”
“Why?”
“I dunno”
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing”
“So then I had to do all the dishes myself”

I was quite impressed with Number 1 son because at home, he doesn’t even know that we have a dishwasher. Let alone know how to operate it.

So as I write this, its early Monday morning in HKG. The sun is trying to break through the clouds. I have 2 hours before the nice people at Fedex get to work. I know my Green card is here because I have been checking the shippers website every 11 seconds and the tracking section tells me that the “parcel” is somewhere on Lantau Island.

If it gets here early, I’ll try and jump on the lunchtime flight. If not, then there’s a 5pm flight. And even a red eye flight to SFO. All have seats apparently. Doesn’t mean CX will release one to me though.

I’ll be back in a bit. Just need to go tell Rose to iron my underwear…