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<\/a><\/p>\nthe bus arrived. a tire did not flat. a\u00a0 cargo plane did not land on the roof. i did not find a boa constrictor under my seat. i was not kidnapped and sold into slavery somewhere in the Niger. all of these i thought might <\/em>happen, but, phew, thankfully they didn’t. such was the state of my bullet-riddled mind by this stage that i felt lucky as i stepped into the sub-zero temperatures of Hong Kong Airport.<\/p>\n the plane arrived and i got on, we set off, my TV worked, the food was ok,the stewardess was cute, the clouds were fluffy. when i closed my eyes i dreamed of bunny rabbits and bicycles, and in my slumber i reinvented the chainring and became very wealthy. all was good.<\/p>\n i got off the plane. i floated through the crowds like a Bodhisattva, dispensing well wishes and beatific smiles at all and sundry, even to the noisy little children who blocked my way on the walkway. even to them, the little angels, such was my mood of relief that my ordeal was very close to an end.<\/p>\n i walked up to the immigration desk. the officer there lifted her head, and i saw that it was the same immigration officer who’d rang that little bell just after her stamp had hovered perilously close to not <\/em>sending me on my Hong Kongian Odyssey. was there a flicker of recognition, possibly even remorse in those coal black eyes?<\/p>\n nope.<\/p>\n just another travel droid passing through the Gates of Righteousness. on yer way, hu-muppet.<\/p>\n i scraped through. made my way down the escalator. realised i was smelling something like a gherkin, one that had been left on a windowsill for a few days. all my clothes were in my bike bag, my lovely bike bag, full of my bike! it was 9pm now, my better half was waiting in the car park and in 2 short hours i’d be at home, and to bed, to rest and then get up and ride and ride. had the route planned, my favorite, out on the 14, up the twisting 21, down the backside and finally up Squiggly Climb to the top of the ridge, a fantastic 100km loop that i’d ridden, happily, maybe a hundred times.<\/p>\n past the carousels to the China Air counter, where my bag had been stored when i’d been told i had to go to HK in the first place.<\/p>\n ‘i’m here to collect my bag.’<\/p>\n ‘flight number please,’ she said, without looking up.<\/p>\n ‘well it was two, three days ago, i was turned back… here’s my passport. can you just use that?’<\/p>\n she takes the passport. she taps the keyboard. taps again. ‘hmmmmm’s. calls over colleague.<\/p>\n the Mist of Melifluosness (and Pickle Juice) that my head had been parked in for the past few hours suddenly began to clear. how hard can it be to locate a big bike bag?<\/p>\n ‘can’t you just go in the back room and get it? it’s very large, black, has a bike in it.’<\/p>\n ‘sir, your bag seems to be in Hong Kong.’<\/p>\n seems to be<\/em>?<\/p>\n ‘……….’<\/p>\n ‘yes, Hong Kong.’<\/p>\n ‘are you – i – how – but….’<\/p>\n yes. yes, yes and yes again. hallelujah, YES! they sent the bike to Hong Kong with me on the plane, and there i was, powering through the airport to the visa office as my bike forlornly traveled the carousel circuit. and it wasn’t even my bike! i’d borrowed it from a friend after last minute trouble with my team bike.<\/p>\n<\/a>