Departure/Arrival

Friday, March 28: Leave Omaha: Wake one hour and 15 minutes before flight. Shower. No Shave. To Eppley Airfield, parents drive me, tossing razor, shaving cream, toothpaste, toothbrush, and finger nail clipper set into carry-on bag. During baggage inspection, shaving cream and toothpaste are confiscated. Bag is set aside for further inspection. Announcer calling for all passengers on flight to Salt Lake City, the first leg of my flight to Hong Kong via Vancouver. After a second x-ray scan, while the announcer continues calling for passengers; FAA inspectors confiscate a wine corkscrew/bottle opener from the fingernail clipper set and steal one of my gifts to Joyce’s family… Inspector says - “You can’t take this.” Me – “That’s expensive jam from Sandpoint, Idaho (huckleberry). It’s a gift to my girlfriend’s parents.” Inspector says – “Let me talk to my supervisor.” Supervisor says – “Toss it.” Me – “Can my parents at least come upstairs and pick it up.” Supervisor says– “Nope. It’s garbage. Toss it.”

Stop in Salt Lake City. Fly to Vancouver. Go through customs to retrieve checked backpack. Border police suspicious of my six hour layover. Released. Go through x-ray inspection again.

Thirteen-and-a-half hours of sleep later, expecting more customs hassle, I walk on Hong Kong soil. I carry a piece of paper detailing my arrival and departure plans. Technically, visitors should not be admitted without proof of return ticket. The customs agent scans my passport, rips off the first sheet of the visa, and I meander through the green doors for those with nothing to declare.

Close to midnight on Saturday, March 29, Joyce leads me to the bus stop at Hong Kong International Airport on Lantau Island. We go to her parents’ flat on Hong Kong Island.

I ask about fishing in the ocean against her residential complex…. Joyce says - “Douger, you can forget about fishing.” We walk down steps to peek at the ocean black in the night. Big “NO FISHING” signs line our path. High above the water, a walkway weaves along the shoreline. Locals line the walkway above the water. They fish over the railing. A group of youths squat together and put line on a girl’s pole. A few heavy rods lean against the railing... Me – “Catching anything?” Young fisherman – “Just beer.”

A moment later, 39 floors above the scene, surrounded by more towering residential buildings, Joyce’s family offers a warm greeting. I forget to take off my shoes upon entering their home. I don’t intend disrespect, but removing shoes upon entering a home is one of the unwritten rules of which Joyce had pre-warned me. They don’t seem offended. Joyce doesn’t think they even noticed. I couldn’t have asked for a more gracious reception.