An Attempt On My Life
Every year or two without fail, I accidentally ingest some pineapple. Being allergic enough that I have stopped breathing on a few occasions, I object to the amount of hidden pineapple that can be found in Hong Kong. It’s like Hong Kong wants me to kill me. I, for one, try to exercise extreme caution with my food choices. Of course Hawaiian pizza and fruit cocktail is out. At hotels, I avoid all fruit since they use the same cutting boards to slice everything. I never get to drink the punch at baby showers and weddings. I even check the ingredients list on the back of orange juice boxes. At many a party I have had to forgo the sausage and pineapple side and sit out when the fluffy Hong Kong-style cakes get passed around (what a sacrifice). I haven’t eaten Thai red curry in years because the risk is just too great. But all of those things are for amateurs. Hong Kong has come up with so many more creative attempts on my life. It started right away. My first year in the c...