Hong Kong: Day 23 (cont’d)
Brings back many memories of HK in the early seventies. I can tell you that it was the BEST place for an eighteen year old to be living at that time.
Footnote: Stanley was mainly the prison and dwellings for the prison officers and their families back then.
Originally posted on How the Cookie Crumbles:
Sue and I headed for the bus parked almost in front of a Seven-Eleven Variety Store. We decided, as did the rest of our group, to buy water. A cashier managed to keep up with the brisk business, while another worker (or owner) kept an eye on the crowd. The store appeared to stock anything you can imagine.
Soon, almost everyone took his or her seat but someone was still missing. Hurry up and wait as the saying goes. We did wait. And wait. And wait. No explanations were given, at least not to the English Group 8. Finally, the French crowd cheered and the last couple hopped on, to loud and boisterous guffaws. The story: the husband, goofing around—whether on purpose or by accident—sent his wife into the water and of course, she was soaked through. The bus couldn’t turn back to the hotel just for her. Would you…
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