Can I have your number?

LAS VEGAS->SAN FRANCISCO->HONG KONG->BALI

That's how travel went. Quick stop in SF for dinner and drinks at Jasper's with the cousin. San Francisco to Hong Kong was a li'l over 14hrs. Layover in Hong Kong was a li'l under 5 hours, then it was a short 5 hours flight to Bali! The flight was magnificent, helps that I was able to fully stretch out with 3 blankets, 5 pillows, Harry Potter and movies galore.

Arrived at a very deserted Hong Kong International Airport around 6am. Walked around for an hour before settling in somewhere. It was too early and my flight hadn't been assigned a gate yet, so I just sat at the closest gate, Gate 53. The airport started to fill and my flight finally got assigned a gate, of course... Gate 15. Always happens-- furthest gate, furthest room, furthest theater, furthest anything from my current location; it's like a cosmic joke. That took me a good hour to find. Forgot for a minute where i was-- "boy there are a lot of Asians walking around"-- duh. The airport was huge and it didn't help that there was a big maze of a shopping center smack down the middle. I passed the same Starbucks 4 times before breaking down. Oh, and everything was in Chinese.

First hour in Bali was interesting. Baggage claim was odd. There were a bunch of 5"5' dark skinned Balinese "bell hops" that insist on wheeling your luggage for you. The whole thing was confusing and irritating. He insisted on grabbing my stuff, chat me up with a very broken English, then talk to his fellow workers about me. The ol' elevator-eyes gets old after 13 Indonesians stare, smile, then ask if I have a boyfriend. Awesome. Finally get to customs to get my bag checked, looked official enough. Mr. Official opened my bag, searched inside. Another came over with a little gadget and rubbed it all over my things--"you eat drugs?" EXCUSE ME? Apparently that's what the gadget was for, to detect whether I "eat drugs." I'm looking around and no one else is receiving the same treatment. Great. Still waiting for Mr. Gadget to get back and good ol' Mr. Official was asking me some standard questions, or so it seemed. "Where are you from?", "How long are you staying?" "Where are you staying?", "How old are you?". Then it got weird-- "Do you have a husband?", "Do you have a boyfriend.", "Can I have your number?" WHAT?! I politely respond-- "Are you crazy?" Mr. Gadget gets back-- cleared. The "bell hop" brings me over to the money exchange counter and it became pretty clear-- he gave me the get-money-so-you-can-tip-me-bitch nudge over to the exchange desk. It all happpened so fast, I gave 'em a few hundred bucks to see how it worked. She handed me a few million rupiah and change, which was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. The whole "million" thing throws me off. Then the guy insists I tip him... I get handed over to yet another buck-toothed 5" Balinese man and this is when I insist, I can roll my own bag.

"Do you know what the hell's going on yet?" Some American kid-- I gave him my ice cream bar on the plane-- stood by me in the taxi line. "KIND OF." I felt better, I wasn't the only one completely weirded out about the whole experience. It was hard to tell who was official, who wasn't, and who just wanted my number. Oh, Bali. You're going to be a hoot. By the way, 100,000 rupiah is around $12.10. I need to go get change tomorrow.