A Visit to the Eastern Seas

Hong Kong was the third stop on the Harold and Mildred Haverson "Round The World" vacation. In Los Angeles they gasped at the freaks gathered on Hollywood and Vine. Mildred had her purse stolen at Waikiki Beach, and Harold was beginning to wonder if this trip was such a good idea. How comfortable, really, was he that Jack Simpson wouldn't bankrupt the hardware business that it had taken twenty years to build?

It was raining when the plane landed late in the night, so the Haversons were spared the thrill of Tae Tak airport. Their hotel pretty much lived up to the brochure, but was very tiny. After the long flight, they fell into exhausted sleep without more than a glance at the lights of Hong Kong.

The morning was overcast when they stepped out of their hotel. Soon they were swallowed up in the crowds who choke Nathan Road every day. The day may have been gray, but that only accentuated the kaleidoscope colors of the crowd and storefronts. Like the sound of the sea, the noise of millions of people going about their business was everywhere present. Harold was amazed at the four story tall scaffolding of slender bamboo that marked frenzied construction.

Mildred spent the morning leading Harold from shop to shop filled with Chinese curiosities and merchandise. She soon had him carrying heavy bags of presents for the folks back home. A famous tailor fitted Harold for a handmade suit, and Mildred bought a pair of emerald earrings set in 24-carat gold. Somewhere along their route Harold's new 35 mm camera was lost. The whole place had a "foreign" smell. By the time the Haversons returned to their hotel Harold's senses were overloaded, and he was dead tired

That evening they took the Star ferry over to Hong Kong Island and ate at the best darn restaurant in town. The food was superb, and no one asked Harold to eat anything that back home would have been sent to the trash. Coming back on the ferry, the Haversons were sated and relaxed. Snuggled together by the rail, they watched the lights of China play on the water. Out of the mist the shadow of a batten-sailed junk silently drifted by.

Harold left Mildred in their hotel room while he "stretched his legs". Harold had no real destination in mind. Well, perhaps one of those "hootchie-coochi" joints made famous in the stories of earlier travelers passed through his mind. Soon Harold was lost in darkened streets that weren't laid out in a neat grid. "I'd better get back to the hotel", he thought. He eventually found Nathan Road and started walking.

After awhile the mist turned into a gentle rain, but there were no taxicabs to be seen. There before him, like an island in an empty sea, was a great lighted marquee. "The Eastern Sea" flashed on and off in neon splendor. A large Chinese dressed in an admiral's uniform covered with gold lace, buttons, and dangling cords guarded the door. The doorman's smile was enormous as he opened the door and invited Harold into the lobby. Inside a lovely lady opened an elevator door decorated with gold dragons, and pushed the buttons for Harold.

When the doors opened, a small man wearing a pirate's eye patch and dressed in a formal tuxedo welcomed Harold to the club. The Major Domo snapped his fingers and a young woman appeared. The girl took Harold into a room filled with lockers. She helped him out of his clothes, and hung them neatly on padded hangers. Locking the cabinet, she hung the key suspended from a gold chain around Harold's neck. She pointed him toward a door at the end of the carpeted room, turned and left.

Inside the next room, Harold found a row of shower stalls. He stepped into the shower and turned on the water. The hot water streamed over him, and he began to relax. Before him was a bewildering array of shampoos, soaps and scents. He picked one in a large gold bottle, and spent another five minutes experimenting with the selections. Leaving the showers, Harold entered a large bathing room.

In the center of the room was a Jacuzzi larger than Harold's living room back in Nebraska. Steam rose invitingly from the gurgling water, and a waterfall fell from a fountain in a corner of the room. Along one wall were two large steam rooms. Saunas occupied a second wall. The floors were of polished marble, and all around the ceiling were television sets all showing horse races at Happy Valley.

An attendant helped Harold into the Jacuzzi. He noticed that he was the only westerner in the place. It took a while for Harold to become comfortable. Naked in the presence of naked strangers takes some getting used to. Harold retreated into the steam room, but the heat was a little too much. He tried the other steam room and found it more comfortable. When he emerged from the steam room, a uniformed attendant handed him a large towel to dry off. Harold saw a man laughing while bathing in the fountain. Harold thought that might be fun and stepped into possibly the coldest water he had ever experienced. His blood rushed from his hot skin and seemed to crush his heart. He didn't linger in the ice plunge, but returned to the hot waters of the spa.

One of the men asked Harold who he thought was going to win the race that was getting ready to start. Harold studied the horses for a moment and chose number three as his favorite. The horses were off, and in the end number three came in half a length ahead of the field. "Pretty good", Harold's new companion congratulated him. "Would you like to bet on the next race?"

"Why not. What happens if neither of us wins? By the way, I'm Harold Haverson."

"And I am Mr. Wing. Pleased to meet you. We'll roll the bet over onto the next race. O.K.?"

Time passed as race after race was run. Harold found himself caught up in the excitement of the contest. Back home he had never been to a racetrack, and never gambled much beyond a few small bets with friends on the Super Bowl. Now he was beginning to appreciate the thrill that horse players become addicted to. Harold didn't win often, and soon realized that his gambling debt was quite large.

Harold knew it was time to go. He left the Jacuzzi and promised to leave his gambling debt with the Major Domo. Harold was surprised at the cheerful acceptance of his mere promise to pay a debt to a complete stranger. A uniformed attendant helped him dry off with a fresh white towel, and escorted him to the door. There, he was helped into a soft robe and the door was opened for him.

Instead of an expected hallway back to the locker room, Harold found a long narrow room filled with over stuffed leather club chairs. A middle-aged woman in a tuxedo took him to an empty chair, and raised his feet onto a large matching ottoman. "What will the gentleman have to drink?" she asked. Harold asked for single malt. The woman went away to get his drink. He looked around and saw another large screen television where a Hong Kong Kung-fu film was showing. As he was trying to figure out the plot, a young woman approached carrying a tray. "Would the gentleman like a cigarette, or candy, or anything else?" Harold declined just at his scotch arrived. He took a sip and was surprised to find that it was Laphoaig. He would have liked to read one of the many newspapers displayed on a rack, but they were all in Chinese. He placed his glass back onto the silver tray beside his chair. The Tuxedo Lady returned and asked if he were ready now for his massage.

Harold found himself in a very large room divided into many small cubicles. The ceiling over the cubicles was covered with a maze of pipes. His escort left him in one of the cubicles, where two pretty girls bowed in greeting. Harold was helped from his robe, and onto the cushioned table. He laid, face down, wondering what was going to happen next. One of the girls began massaging his head and neck. The other girl began rubbing sweet scented oil onto his back and legs. Harold sank even further into relaxation and dozed off. The rubbing went on for a long time, and then he could feel small feet walking and working the muscles of his back. A soft moan of pleasure escaped his lips.

In the back of Harold's mind was the disturbing notion that this was just too good, and that the experience might cost far more than he had taken away from the hotel How much was it that he had lost? Was that eight thousand American dollars, or eight thousand Hong Kong? The fellow he had lost the money to seemed more like a businessman than a thug. What if he couldn't pay, would he have to fight his way back to the hotel. Then there was the cost for all this luxury. No one had ever given him a price list, or even any choice really. He had been in the club for probably two, maybe three hours. Say a hundred dollars an hour, that was a bit steep, but the bill might be much more. How much more could it be? Tips! God, he had been passed from one attendant to another. How many were there? Did he have to pay extra for the massage? Harold could almost see the headlines that would be generated if the Hong Kong Police took him off to some jail. Would Mildred ever find him? How long can they hold an American here for not paying a bill? He knew that it would all worked out eventually, but at what price.

"Would the gentleman like another hours massage?"

Harold declined and found his way back to the locker room. He opened the locker and began to dress himself. As he pulled on his trousers, an attendant was at his side. The attendant held Harold's shirt for him, and brushed his coat off. Harold slipped his feet into his shoes, and the attendant knelt to tie them for him. Harold's unease was rising as his visit to this strange club was coming to an end.

At the door, still another attendant combed his hair, and with a pair of scissors quickly trimmed Harold's hair. The attendant stepped back and misted Harold with cologne before opening the lobby door for him.

There Harold was greeted again by the Major Domo. "I hope that you have had a pleasant evening sir". The devil had the effrontery to smile. Harold pulled his wallet out and said, "I lost a few dollars on the races. Would you give Mr. Wing my money when he asks for it?" The Major Domo giggled. "Sir, the last race at Happy Valley was run at four o'clock this afternoon. I'm sure that Mr. Wing was only teasing you."

"What is the bill?"

The Major Domo, without hesitation replied, "Thirty-five dollars Hong Kong, please."

Harold gave the man a fifty-dollar Traveler's Check, and rode the elevator back down to the street. The rain was heavier now. The Doorman asked if Harold would like a taxi, and without waiting sent his assistant out to the curb blowing a whistle. A taxi quickly arrived. The Doorman escorted Harold out taxi's open door beneath a large umbrella. "I hope the gentleman had a good time this evening, and will honor us with his presence in the future."

Harold settled back in the taxi seat and though, "This sure aint Omaha."