Remember? Have you forgotten already? Probably. It was very important, and now you’ve blown it. You’ll remember in an hour when you can’t tell somebody what it was you were thinking about in the first place.
Don’t you hate that?
So that thing I’m thinking about is how my eye is twitching. Happens when I’m tired, and I’m tired because of The Bus Stop, aka my new apartment. I’m right off Caine Road by the Soho escalator and I expect to get about 6 hours of sleep a night for the next month or until I adjust to the noise. Last night the buses stopped at 12:10 am, then at 12:36 am a garbage truck pulls into the alley below, “BEEP BEEP BEEP &#@!kin’ BEEP!” What in the wide world of sports is a garbage truck doing loading trash at 12:36 am? Maybe I’ll ask him tomorrow night. In my underwear. Wielding that rice cooker I was talking about.
I suppose the one bonus of living in The Bus Stop is I won’t need an alarm clock since buses start screaming by at about 6:20 am. I’m up! I’m up! OK! Shower! Check. Clothes! Check. Coffee! Check. Off to work an hour early. Eye twitches.
Yeah, I need earplugs.
I know what you’re thinking, “You live in Hong Kong you candy ass, deal with it! Hong Kong is a huge, noisy city and you’re complaining about some buses? You could be dealing with the Traids (Hong Kong gangs for those of you who think Hong Kong is a small fishing village in Singapore) having kung fu Big Trouble in Little China style battles outside! Come on! Pansy!”
To that I say…I lived in the Cali suburbs for the last year (nearly) where it is deathly quiet at night. If you hear something loud then it is either a giant meteor crashing to Earth and its Armageddon, or somebody is whupping on their kids. The two events could easily be confused I imagine. But I keep waking up so I’m guessing a meteor hasn’t hit yet.
These kinds of things are some of the fun challenges you deal with moving to a new city. If you value quiet, then prepare to live far from everything. If you want to live in a hoppin’ area then you better prepare for a few little ups and downs here and there. Or, to pay a small fortune which I am not prepared to do.
PS. Hong Kong is 50% British and 50% French banker for those wondering what the demographic is here. Cars drive on the left side of the road and unemployed French bankers (what ones are left) wander the streets like zombies, throwing cash at bottles of champagne like they’re still making money.