After we taxied in and the plane came to a stop, we were unloaded with a speed that puts to shame any other airport I've ever been through. Seriously. Within 5 minutes of the plane coming to a stop, I was out. And I was in the second-to-last row. This was a big 450-seat Boeing 777, too. Usually you end up standing around for 10 minutes while who knows what goes on, and then people start filing out. Not in Hong Kong. These guys know how it's done.
Anyways, as soon as I got off the plane and headed up the walkway, the first thing I saw was a big ad for The Royal Bank of Scotland. Here I was, hoping for a poster advertising skin whitener or parasols or wine with dead snakes in it, but no. An ad for a bank headquartered thousands of kilometers away. And then I exited the boarding hallway and entered the airport proper.
I was greeted by the most ridiculous advertisement I have ever seen. A smile crept across my face. There were cartoon figures, and big neon bubble letters and mixed English and Chinese across the whole thing, with a web address at the top. The ridiculousness of this ad was made even greater when I looked up the website a few minutes ago, and found out it is actually serious business.
The website is nofakes.hk, part of the Hong Kong government's attempt to curb the sale of knock-offs on unsuspecting buyers. It seems like a good cause, but could you imagine the government of Ontario had used guys that look like this
to get us to take advantage of the home renovation tax credit?
After hopping on the moving sidewalk that courteously warned me when I was approaching its end and walking down past all the other arrival gates to the heart of the airport, I found out from the girl at the information desk that for connecting flights you had to go stand in the security line. Exactly why this was required, I am not sure. To be in that section of the airport, you have to have come in on a plane from another airport, where I would bet you already went through the same process. In fact, I would wager that there is no airport anywhere where you DON'T have to go through security prior to boarding a plane. But hey. Maybe I had an airport employee plant a weapon in the bathroom in the arrival terminal. That's possible, I suppose.
Whatever the reason, I had to wait in line for a while, but once again, Hong Kong managed to show up every airport I've ever been through. Despite the line containing many zigzags and overflowing the roped off section by at least one hundred people, I got through quickly. It probably took less time than security at Pearson, when there were about 15 or 20 people in front of me. And the checks weren't any less thorough. They just had a better system, and enough people so that the guy watching the x-rays didn't have to get up and check bags that she saw something suspicious in. He told someone else to check it, and kept doing his job so he didn't hold up the entire line.
Once I passed through security I found Hong Kong Airport to resemble the typical airport-that-is-trying-to-pass-itself-off-as-a-high-end-shopping-mall with Lacoste, Burberry, and other such boutiques. There were stores selling Johnnie Walker and Godiva chocolates. Forget a pillow? Need a new camera? You could get it somewhere here. All the standard stuff. At first glance, it could have been anywhere in the world. Upon closer inspection, though, I found it to be enjoyably strange. There was chocolate-covered corn, dozens of flavors of tea instead of juice and pop, and a store that sold nothing but purses for men. They also had smoking rooms, which I've never seen in an airport before, as far as I can remember.
Eventually, I sauntered up to one of the restaurants, hoping my slow movement would give me enough time to take a peek at the menu and promptly about face if I spied price tags higher than I could afford. Luckily the prices seemed fairly reasonable from what I remembered about the value of the Hong Kong Dollar, because as soon as I was close enough to make out what was on the menu, the hostess was moving towards me, calling at me to come in and sit down. I obliged, and she brought me a menu.
No less than 10 seconds after I sat down, a waitress was there, asking me what I wanted. When I stalled for time by saying "just a second," and furiously started flipping through the 15-page menu, she stood there for about 3, and then without a word walked over to the table beside me to deal with the people there. Apparently people in Hong Kong absorb the contents of menus instantaneously through touch. As a result of my lack of understanding of this system of speed-ordering, I had to wait five minutes for another waitress to approach me. She took my order, and within 10 seconds, had returned with the bill. I began to sense a trend here. Everything these people do is done with the utmost expedition. Then again, maybe they were just worried that I would run off without paying.
Sure enough, the food arrived quickly as well. It was decent, but not great, as I suppose one must expect airport food to be. It was leaps and bounds above the food on the plane, so I was grateful for it nonetheless. Not 10 seconds after I took the last sip of my drink, the first waitress came over and picked up my dishes. Again, without a word. With my bill already paid, and no one nearby or within easy reach to say thank you and goodbye to, I got up and left. Without a word. As I left though, I thought to myself, "I hope they don't think I'm a jerk for leaving without saying anything."
I am beginning to see how non-universal my innate Canadian politeness is. Walking around, no one made eye contact. No one smiled at one another. Men openly ogled women for extended periods of time without any attempt to hide what they were doing. And I was the only one who thought any of it was strange.
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