The night market

I had a forgettable dinner. I woke up my little brother about 7, and said "Hey, I'm thinking about getting some take-out." "Get me some too" he said. So I went across the street, and studied the pictures on the menus very carefully. I had my choice of many menu 'sets', which is the same as a value meal at McDonalds, and if you choose badly, which I did, you get a complete bag of yuck. I am slowly working my way thru the fast food menus of Asia.

I finished, and we bagged up the survivors (you know, I wasn't eating bait or anything, just REALLY gristly beef that was mostly fat), and I perused a local tourism book.

"Hey, you can get Red Army stuff at the nightmarket!"

"Yeah Bets. Ya wanna go? I'll take you!"

As it turns out, this was my brother's excuse to put on a clean shirt and get ready to go out drinking. Whatever. So we walk the six blocks down to the nightmarket, which should be called tourist CRAP R US. On the way, we pass a guy with bleached hair that eyed him, and Dean noticed. We walk around the market, and buy a little of this and that. Midway thru, he jets. (Eye rolling, but hey, he lived here, and there are parties all over this weekend. But now I gotta walk back by myself .... yikes!)

Something about Hong Kong doesn't feel as safe as Shanghai. Dean says "Ignorance is bliss" and maybe that's so. But it WAS only six blocks.

So I finished buying shiny trinkets (I would insert a photo here if the hotel computer had the appropriate port, but it doesn't) and started hoofing it back to the hotel. Four blocks from the hotel, I notice a woman with a really short skirt, and she's no spring chicken. Three blocks from the hotel, I pass a vacant lot ringed by chainlink. I notice a girl in a short skirt and boots leaned up against it. And another. And two more. And a small cluster around the corner.

Then I notice the guy with the bleached hair, and suddenly I understand that he's the pimp. Oh.