Excursion to festive Peak becomes object lesson in failings of lawmakers
Monday Vibes
Again, Christmas decorations seize the opportunity to creep onto doorsteps and into stores, climb up flyovers and windows, and even play with children’s hair. A man-made tree of the season regains life at a Central square next to the old Legislative Council Building. The Peak Tower primps itself for more tourists flowing in to admire Hong Kong’s vitality and diversity, not during their office hours of course.
A weekend evening saw me levitate to the Peak and thread my way through throngs of visitors to feast my eyes, mind and heart on the splendor of a vigorous skyline connecting sky and water, blinking flashes of color, and dwarfing earthlings like me. I was enthralled, enlightened and purified with many memories, until a cry of “it’s late” hit my eardrums.
Time, oh, I should have remembered timing.
Unwillingly I dragged my feet downward toward the Peak Tram station, only to find it unapproachable, hidden behind long, heavy walls of bustling crowds. Hesitantly turning to the bus hub some distance away, I found my body swamped by noisy limbs that limped, stalled and moved again. Finally, I managed to draw near enough to obtain a whole view of the station hall.
Then, time stopped.
My eyes were arrested, mind lost, and body frozen. Nowhere was the double-deck bus I love so much, nor a single green or red minibus, not even a taxi — just more meandering crowds that filled up all the passageways and flooded on to the road outside.
Eventually my smartphone concluded the next scheduled bus should be 15 minutes away. My best chance could be the fifth one after the next, each with a 20-minute wait. Queues for cabs or minibuses were endless as well.
An extra hour or two to be wasted! How could it be possible in a city where time is money? In an hour or two one could travel to Shenzhen and strike deals; in minutes the Happy Valley race could yield thousands of dollars; in seconds millions of dollars could be flowing into or out of bank accounts.
Dejection. Anguish. Regret. Guilt. Any trace of the previous exuberant euphoria was swallowed deep by dysphoria. I could hardly budge from my toehold without being constantly brushed by other shoulders and arms, dismayed at jeering light flashes, a shrill wind, or bursts of complaints.
In comparison, a one-and-half hour wait at Causeway Bay shops or the seaside bus stop of Deep Water Bay was comfortable.
It takes me longer to realize that such anxious crowds have been a feature at top scenic spots for years, and long daily queues are familiar across the island. I doubt such experiences will reflect well on a tourism hub and shopping haven, and imagine someone in LegCo will do something to bring back seamless quality service and ease.
Yet our legislators are too occupied, some with killing time, and during office hours!
Since the current session of LegCo started in October, legislators have spent hours running into days without passing anything substantial. Reports have it that some of them are infatuated with achieving a goal of passing no bills before mid-March.
While these social elites exploit political wisdom and legal texts to spawn ingenious tricks to kill the time and bills, time has let Singapore surpass us in many fields and Britain has lost much of its glamor. This leaves us irked about competitiveness, with bus schedules as old and cold as lampposts, youths faced with hollow aspirations for homes, and the comparatively poor poorer.
Maybe some LegCo performers believe they are young and have time and a future free of worry thanks to handsome pay from public coffers, but most other folks cannot afford the luxury.
No. However indefinite universal time is, ours is limited. The choice to use or abuse time is yours and mine, so is the future.
As for my Peak evening? I used my legs.