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On September 1st, I landed at Hong Kong International Airport after a 15 hour flight. I was looking forward to a hot shower and a dim sum dinner. Instead, I was stuck there for six hours.
For several months, pro-democracy protesters have rallied against the government. What began as peaceful protests quickly escalated into violent clashes with the police. These protesters targeted the Hong Kong International Airport and several transit stations, causing hundreds of canceled flights.
On the Sunday when I chose to fly to Hong Kong, they again targeted the airport. Hundreds of protesters gathered that afternoon at the airport bus terminal, chanting "Fight for Freedom! Stay with Hong Kong! Soon after, the authorities suspended some train and bus services connected to the airport and police piled up in the area.
By the time my plane arrived at the airport at 6 pm, the authorities had stopped all traffic between the city and the airport. The riot police intervened and the protesters pushed everything they could find – racks stolen from the wagons – to block the police from the airport. Thousands of people have been blocked. Some passengers desperate to take their plane even dragged their luggage on the 10-mile bridge that leads to the airport.
I asked a security officer at the airport how I could get out of there, and the guy shrugged. "You can wait like everyone else," he said, pointing to the long line of people queuing up and saying nothing.
"Can I take a taxi or Uber?" I said, and he shook his head, "No exit at the moment. You just wait.
I tried to find something to eat in a 7-Eleven terminal at the terminal, but the store was so crowded with people that elbows stitched me to the ribs and that suitcases ran me over. several times. Eventually, I heard a buzz in the crowd when the bus terminal had opened, so I rushed – with hundreds of other people. In a few seconds, dozens of other people and their giant suitcases were massed behind me. I was stuck like a grain of rice in a bag of rice.
So I was there, crushed by stifling humidity, against sticky bodies and bodies and my luggage, hoping to hope that I would soon reach my hotel. So many people were crushed together that no one knew where the line was starting or ending, or even which line belonged to which bus service. From time to time, the sky unleashed rain showers. Some people snatched their umbrellas, almost making their eyes disappear, while other poor unprepared people took advantage of the rain, unable to move more than an inch because of the crowd.
I was lucky to be standing under a roof, but I still felt miserable. I could not move, my bladder was swollen, I had nothing to eat, nothing to drink and no place to sit. Everyone remained inflamed in the common emanations of bodily smells, frustration and exhaustion.
Some treated the situation with humor. An elderly woman joked, "I should pretend to faint. The fastest way out here is an ambulance.
Others reacted with anger. A man started screaming in Cantonese, waving his hands in the air as he hit an unseen person.
Most have resigned. A couple leaned against each other and closed their eyes for a nap as they got up. Some watched in a vacuum and others watched shows on their mobile phones.
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