Earlier, Alex and I found ourselves led to the executive lounge on the top floor of the hotel, enjoying a buffet over hazy, drizzling Hong Kong. Why were we there, among businessmen and a random assortment of high class people? We had become accidental "executives" with access to luxurious amenities. We weren't complaining.
We're back again at that lounge. They had told us we would get free drinks and appetizers.
The fog seems thicker, the raindrops bigger and harder. This time I'm showered, with less hair and a full stomach. Our venture out into the mall has made my hair even shorter and our appetite saturated with Korean food.
It's odd. Alex points out , no one is offering us service. Other tables around us get their plates filled, wine offered. Time lapses. We sit and wait. Everything moves around us.
Is it because Alex looks Filipina?
Is it because we're two Asian females?
Is it race? Ethnicity? Gender?
Others in the room are white families, white couples, Asian couples, inter-racial couples.
You do the math, we can only speculate.
"Is there a problem with our table? Because we haven't been served. I just want a glass of wine."
Alex is a feisty one. I love this girl.
15 minutes later, a smiley waiter offers us wine. The same dude in that maroon shirt that has ignored us for the past hour. I get a foul taste in my mouth as I watch the clear wine being poured into Alex's glass. It's an awkward silence, the sound of liquid collecting into a container.
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