My boss and I spent Friday evening watching the Typhoon Signal 3 weather come and go, wrecking havoc on party dresses, high heels, and hearing the Michael Jackson medleys blaring from every bar up and down Lan Kwai Fong.

Tonight LKF had two competing dead icons – Hong Kong Elvis and a gweilo Michael Jackson - sporting a goatee dressed in leather red and black Thriller getup, drunk, sweating, and occasionally grabbing his crotch, doing a Michael Jackson kick, and shouting “sha-moan!”

On one 45 degree angle sloped street, the King of Rock and Roll battled against the King of Pop for the hearts and minds of those with loose change.

My boss and I watched amused.

We had tried leaving our outside table at La Bogedas – but always the Typhoon Signal 3 would throw its rain – so we would order another round and stay dry and protected under the eve of the salsa bar.

“I think I am getting behind,” I said as I took my beer glass in my hands. “My buddy Nick is having a baby, engaged, and here I am.”

“Yeah, he is kicking your ass.” And he laughed at his comment.

“But that’s why I chose not to take that job with Obama – not yet anyway. Hong Kong will be the longest I have ever stayed somewhere. Ever since I was a child, my parents and I have moved every three years. It has become a habit. Almost part of my genes.”

“And when things get hard, or when the pressure comes to commit, you run. You did it in Europe. You did it in South Africa. And you nearly did it here. One day you have to stop running.”

I nodded and offered my glass and we clinked in an unspoken cheers.

“Home is a person not a place,” I put out there.

“Maybe so, but you need to stay in one place long enough to build something with a single person.”

“Yes.” I changed the subject a bit. “The isolation with H1N1 really showed Sophia’s real colors. She stood by me through the whole thing.”

“Its amazing she didn’t get it.”

“I kid her that she gave it to me so she was immune first.”

We sat in silence and watched the drunken revelry in front of us.

Finally my boss revealed, “This is my last beer. I need to get home. My daughter returns from Melbourne tomorrow.”

“Okay.” And feeling it was a bit urgent I took another long drink. “See I envy you. You have built the family. You and your wife have a fantastic relationship.”

My boss laughed. “Shit. Its hard. You have your ups and downs. But you push through. You make sure you create more goods than bads.”

Just then my Blackberry vibrated. I pulled it in front of me and saw the SMS from DJ Gruv. He was playing Kee Club and put me on the guest list. I sms’d him and told him I was on my way.

“You need to build something or you will always be at this place you are now.”

“Which is?” I asked.

“Wondering why you haven’t built something.”

“But can’t you build something where you have both? The life of passion and adventure plus home and stability?”

“You can choose a Cougar.”

“Huh?”

“A woman once or twice married – has had the straight life – the one where she followed the rules of society and found it was just that – the rules of society. Now she wants the passion and adventure.” And he laughed hard.

“You bullshitting me?”

He laughed but went serious. “Maybe a little. But know that life is about compromises. Either with yourself or with another person. Find someone who allows you to be who are and become who you should be. Or…” my boss paused.

Just then, the gweilo Michael Jackson showed up drunkenly in front of us and was dancing and performing in front of Zinc. The other drunk men were imitating and laughing.

“Or what?” I asked.

“You will end up like Michael Jackson.”

“Loving kids and monkeys?” I responded back quickly trying to be funny.

“No. Your life becomes greater in death than when you were alive.”

“The ambulance will be there soon to pick you up,” my local company’s HR representative said over phone. “So you need to pack your belongings and get ready.”

“Okay,” I said compliantly in a hushed tone. Suddenly the reality of everything was coming to me.

“You okay?” he asked.

I snapped out of my funk. “Yeah, I feel fantastic. Funny today has been my best day and now it’s become my worst.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will work out.”

Just then someone rang the doorbell to my room. “I think they are here.” I said.

“I will talk to you later, okay? And remember, don’t worry,” the HR representative said.

I hung up without goodbye. I grabbed my mobile on the table and went to the door. And just like that – there were two people in hazmat uniforms like the ones that had boarded my flight in Shanghai when we landed. But this time – they spoke in Tagalog and with a thick Filipino accent as they spoke English. Their hands were busy with medical instruments and documents to fill out.

“Mister Jackson?” the woman in the hazmat uniform asked.

“Yes?”

“We are here to take you to isolation.”

As the airplane touched down in Manila, my cough was tickling harder but I tried to swallow it down – especially as I was filling out the Health Form.

But I didn’t hide my symptoms. I checked yes that I had a cough. I checked yes that I had a runny nose. And I put all the countries I had visited in the last 7 days: India, China, and Hong Kong.

Unlike China, there was no hazmat team that boarded first and pointed their plastic temperature taking guns. Instead, we were ushered off the plane quite quickly. Then just outside the gate as we turned left towards immigration was a uninterested, heavy man leaning on an iron railing asking you for your health forms. He kept a messy batch under his unused arm and his action arm gathered together the others.

He asked us no questions and he seemed to be put off by being assigned as the single health official. He didn’t even look people in the eyes as we passed – handing him our forms.

At the next level of health inspection – walking in front of the thermal temperature taking television screens – was even easier. The booth was not manned.

I found it hard to keep in my coughing as I stood in the immigration line. I was now self-conscious of my condition – and held it back as much as possible. But the people in lines were more excited about being in the Philippines and ignored me. Most of them seemed like American college students coming over for holiday.

I was afraid the immigration inspector might deny my entry. Instead when I got to her desk she made a comment that she thought my tie made me look handsome. I smiled back, felt a tickle, and let out a little cough.

The lady smiled back and stamped my passport.

When the Dragon Air flight touched down, we were instructed to stay in our seats because a surgical team would be onboard to check everyone’s temperature onboard before we could depart.

Some didn’t care and stood up as if they were going to make a hasty getaway. But after ten minutes of standing, people began giving up. Then the pilot came back on the overhead to tell us the surgical team was delayed and it would be a couple of minutes.

So we sat there idling. I think sometime I dozed off. Suddenly I felt motion and woke up just in time to see a person in a hazmat uniform and surgical mask come racing by. Everyone in the aisles turned quickly to watch. Then again, there were two more on the other aisle racing to the back of the plane.

Then there was a slow mover who had a gray plastic device that looked like a toy gun. The lady wearing the white hazmat uniform would point the gray plastic device and a laser sight would appear on someone’s forehead and apparently a read out showed up on the back display. Then they would move to the next person.

Suddenly, I felt a tickle in my throat and wanted to cough but was afraid to bring attention to myself. And I saw as people all followed the hazmat teams as they pointed, lit the laser point, read the reading, and moved on. The people watching were witnessing in a accusing way – as if to be revealed the person who had snuck onboard to endanger everyone’s life.

I swallowed hard and tried to use my mind over matter to ignore the tickle in my throat. Then I felt my forehead getting hot and sweaty and the hazmat lady was nearing me. What if the readout was faulty, or if my forehead sweat showed up as a bad sign.

I could hear my heart race and I couldn’t catch my breath. But then I started thinking about how relaxing a seven day quarantine might be. Just when I secretly longed for a false positive, the lady in the white hazmat uniform had me in her sights.

I saw the red being projected. She barely looked down on the display and went to the guy sitting beside me. And just like that she was gone.

Finally when we deplaned, we went through two more screenings. One was a thermal temperature check and the last one was a forty five minute wait in a long, snaking line through another temperature reading device that looked like a metal detector.

Almost entering the device, I thought again – how rewarding a seven day holiday would be. But then just like that, the security guard wearing a surgical mask motioned for me to come through.

And just like that, I was normal.

We wanted to celebrate the prohibition of drinking Red Bull in Hong Kong by partaking in Vodka and Red Bull. Our purpose had a bit of urgency. Because if it had been banned in Taipei, Hong Kong, some parts of North America – we didn’t know how much longer it would be freely available.

It broke Manish and I’s heart. I was torn about what drink I would become my new drink of choice when I returned in Hong Kong. I guess I would have to go my second choice that I learned to drink in Melbourne, Australia – Vodka and Cherry Coke.

Ajay had never had it before and now because it might be on the verge of being illegal – he wanted to try it. So all three of us walked out of the office which was chilled by the wall air conditioners out into to the stifling afternoon heat of Mumbai – on the cusp of the rainy season – I had to take my glasses off because they steamed up.

Dodging taxis, playing human “Frogger” through a round-a-bout, we moved toward the beach front and opposite of the ocean, we entered Hotel Marine Plaza. Just past the lobby was Geoffrey’s the Pub.

We didn’t wait for the bartender to hand out menus, “Three Vodka and Red Bulls please,” I said.

The bartender seemed a bit shocked but gathered the drink menus back to his chest and wrote down our orders.

“So how you like being married?” I said looking at Manish.

He smiled wide. “It’s great.”

“So how did you find her?”

“An ad.” Manish looked smug.

“But it wasn’t online. He put an advertisement in a marriage magazine. That makes for a smaller demographic – a more local demographic.” Ajay added.

“Yeah, Ajay, he put an ad online for his wife.”

“Yeah, I wanted a broader search.” Ajaya admitted.

I laughed. “You wanted more selection.”

“I wanted many makes and models,” he said just as the bartender returned with slender glasses filled at the bottom with transparent vodka and the small, beautiful cans of silver and blue Red Bull.

We were like kids seeing them mix our liquid cocaines – giddy. And soon as they were ready, we clinked our glasses quickly and took down big gulps.

I turned to Ajay to see his face. He was looking through his beverage as if he could spot the ingredients while swallowing down what he had in his mouth. “What do you think?”

“Not bad,” and he took another gulp.

“You are now an addict, my friend.” I said and all three of us toasted again.

“Here’s to hoping so.” Ajay answered.

“So what do you put on your ad? Do you have to come up with a cool catchy tag line – like something to market yourself?” I asked Manish.

He shook his head. “No its not a dating service. This is a service where people mean business. You just put your age, your career, the city you live, and your name.”

“So you can choose anybody?”

“Oh no, your family chooses.”

“Wow, you didn’t choose her?” I said taking a deep drink.

Ajay spoke up. “Actually I was different. I didn’t trust my parents. So my marriage was arranged – by me.”

“Very entrepreneurial of you. A self-proprietor of your marriage.”

“Exactly. But of course they have to confirm the choice I made.” And he took another drink.

“You know guys, I think you have the right thing going here. Look at me – I got to choose my wife naturally – and it fell apart. And look at you guys – arranged and very happy.”

Manish beamed. “Yes, very happy.”

“Do you still feel she’s your destiny?” I asked honestly.

He paused to lift his drink to his mouth. “Absolutely. She was my match perfectly. The only difference is we chose when our destinies would be revealed to us.”

“Destiny now.” Ajay summarized.

I smiled and I lifted my drink again and we toasted again – and all at the same time we emptied our glasses. Manish rose his hand to order another round before he put down the empty one.

Sophia and I walked fast hand in hand to the IFC. We were both late. She was running to catch her flight and I was running to my photo shoot and open mic at TakeOutComedy.com.

At where the escalators went down, I pulled her close and kissed her. “Be careful. See you in a couple of weeks,” I said.

“I miss you already,” she said and looked at me sadly.

“It’s the sacrifice we must make.” I hugged her. “You need to get going, you are already late. You cannot miss the next Airport Express train – or then you will miss your flight.”

“Why are you such in a hurry to get me out of Hong Kong?” she asked pointedly.

I was taken back. “What do you mean?”

“You are in an awful hurry to get me out of here.”

I was angry. I didn’t like what she was alluding to. “Look, I am late for my photo shoot. I promised Jami I would be there before 9.”

“Okay,” and she leaned in and kissed me hard.

And we pulled away – felt the gravity of us – still yank us towards each other – and then I went off spinning in the opposite direction towards the SoHo escalator.