Chapter 9 - An International Incident

Only three stops left before they would have some time off in Hawaii. Bob had a couple of benefit shows scheduled for Honolulu, but it would be vacation time for the most part. Unbeknownst to him at this point, the promoter had slipped in an additional benefit show in Hilo, and that will cause multiple frustrations later.

The light at the end of the tunnel was getting a little brighter. It was the longest tour the "Girls" had ever done to this point, and it was beginning to show everywhere except on the stage.

After a very long day in the aluminum tube, Sarah put the jet down smoothly onto the runway and taxied to park at the terminal. Roadies would be back in the morning to unload and take all of the equipment to the loading dock at the stadium.

It was after 11:30 when they checked in. Almost midnight, but they had over a week to hang out before the two shows in Manila. They'd look around to see where they could head off to and see the sights in the Philippines.

When morning woke them all, they showered and headed downstairs to see where they could find some breakfast. As the group walked past, they were hailed from the check-in desk. The hotel manager called Bill and Bob aside and handed Bob a note.

It was a message received the night before. When Bob looked at it, he was glad they hadn't given it to him when they checked in. It probably would have caused a massive loss of sleep.

The note was from the ambassador and was an "invitation" to visit the embassy to discuss their tour. Bob knew what it was going to be about and knew exactly what he would tell them.

Sitting at breakfast, Bob told the girls that they would be on their own for at least the morning because he and Bill had to go to the embassy.

"Why do you have to go to the embassy?" asked Heather.

"We were invited to a chat with the ambassador," Bob said coldly. "I'm betting the bastard wants to talk about the Vietnam cancellation."

Bill said, "Oh, I can't wait for this one. I'll give him a piece of my mind that he'll choke on."

"Relax, Billy-boy. We're on solid ground here. There are no diplomatic relations, so theoretically, we shouldn't be going there to begin with. My guess is that there were hopes that our tour would loosen them up a bit."

The girls looked at them with worried faces, but Bob said, "Don't fret, ladies. We have this handled. We'll listen to what they have to say. Trust me. We're not in any kind of trouble."

A concerned Michelle asked, "Can they make us go?"

"Nope. They can strongly suggest we reconsider, but they have no authority to force us to do anything. Besides, we would need all new visas because the ones we have were only good for entry on Monday from Brisbane. It's Wednesday, and we're in Manila."

Bill said, "They can suggest all they want. They weren't on the phone with the assholes. I'm the one that booked it, and I'm the one that canceled it. Fuck the ambassador."

"Mellow, Bill," said Bob calmly. "We're going to go listen to what the man has to say, give him our story and reasoning, then we're going to leave to enjoy the Philippines. Simple as that."

"Okay, if you say so," mused Bill.

Everyone had kind of lost their appetite, so breakfast was just pushed around the plates. The girls were concerned for the two men that they would somehow disappear for some reason. They'd seen way too many spy movies.

Now, typically, someone going to the embassy for a meeting with the ambassador would be wearing a suit and tie, but Bob and Bill were in shorts, an Aloha shirt, and that's the way they were going for their visit. No standing on ceremony.

Breakfast was over quickly with the impending trip to the embassy.

"Should we come along?" asked Heather.

"I suppose you can," said Bob. "It might be fun for all of us to show up."

"Do we need to change into something more appropriate?" asked Michelle.

"Fuck no," said Bob, "he wants to see us. He'll take what he gets. It isn't about clothing."

Laughing, he said, "Wasn't it Einstein who said something about clothes? They want to see him, fine, but if they want to see his clothes, open his closet and show them his suits."

"I guess," said Chelly, unconvinced. "It shows respect for the office."

"Bullshit," said Bill. "They want respect. They can earn it. Assuming Bob's right and it's about the Vietnam thing, we have no relations with them, so there's nothing to say."

"Hey," said Bob, "they said we were on our own if we decided to go, so I don't know what their issues are other than kissing political ass. It's up to them to pucker, not me."

They piled into the limo and told the driver they needed to go to the embassy. He nodded and began the short journey. It wasn't more than ten minutes before they stood in the driveway at the U.S. Embassy, Manila.

Taking a deep breath, Bill and Bob led the ladies through security, up the stairs, and in the front door. Once inside, they were met by a well-dressed administrator who looked at them as if they were terrorists.

"May I help you?" the man asked.

"Uh, I guess you can. The ambassador said he wanted to see us," said Bob politely.

"The band?" the young man asked with some tone of disdain.

Bob nodded, and the man gestured them to follow. They walked through a labyrinth of corridors before entering an enclave with a massive wooden door.

"Wait here ... please," said the administrator.

He walked over to the large door and knocked quietly. Apparently, he heard something from inside because he opened the door and entered, closing it firmly behind him. In less than half a minute, the door opened, and a middle-aged gentleman came toward them with a smile.

"You must be 'These Girls Can Play'," he said to all of them cheerfully, "Nicholas Flatt, it's my pleasure to meet you."

He made the rounds shaking everyone's hand while each introduced themselves.

"Come in, come in. Thank you for coming," said the ambassador.

"Well, it wouldn't have been polite not to show up," said Bob a little coldly. "You invited us."

Nicholas Flatt smiled and pointed to chairs in the room, "Please, please. Sit down, make yourselves comfortable."

All six of them sat on the couch and two easy chairs to the side of a large desk. The ambassador went around the back of the desk, pulled the chair he usually sat in around the table and brought it so that he closed the circle made by the couch and chairs.

He looked at them with a smile and said, "I can see I've interrupted whatever it was you had planned for the day, so I'll cut right to the chase."

Looking at Bob and Bill, he said, "The president was concerned with your cancellation of the two shows you had scheduled for 'The People's Republic of Vietnam'.

"There had been hope that your performances there would provide some small level of goodwill," he said.

Bob took the lead, "Sir, we're musicians. We're not politicians."

The ambassador nodded, "Understood."

"Our pilot brought it to our attention that she was having issues getting clearance to land in Ho Chi Minh City, so we called to see if we could help. I talked to the US embassy in Perth, and Bill talked to the Vietnamese embassy in Sydney."

The ambassador nodded again but didn't interrupt.

"The U.S. embassy told me that we were essentially on our own and because there are no diplomatic relations with Vietnam, they couldn't provide any assistance. They said that it was up to the Vietnamese."

Bill began to speak, "Mr. Ambassador, I spent over an hour on the phone with the representative in Sydney. Our entire troupe, which includes our entire road staff, the aircrew, and ourselves, have valid entrance visas that the Vietnamese embassy in San Francisco issued. They were dated for entry this past Monday, with our point of departure being Brisbane."

Bill paused to see if the ambassador wanted to say anything, but he remained silent, listening intently to what Bill and Bob had to say. Good diplomats don't talk a lot. They listen.

"I explained the problem to the representative on the phone who told me that because we were entering from Australia, our visas were no longer valid."

"What?" said Ambassador Flatt, "That's ridiculous."

"Yes, sir, I agree. However, the man on the phone wouldn't budge. He said we had to mail all of our passports, the issued visas, and forms to the embassy in Sydney so they could re-issue the visas from there in a couple of weeks.

"It was turning into a big circle jerk, so I just told him to forget it, the shows were canceled, and I hung up."

Bob added, "Sir, it gave us the impression that they were playing political games with our visas, and we don't play. As I said before, we're musicians, not politicians. They can take us or leave us. We're getting tired because it's been a long tour, so they just provided us with a welcome week off in Brisbane and Manila."

The ambassador smiled, "And I hope you enjoy your unexpected extra time here in Manila. There are a lot of things for a tourist to see and do.

"Now that I hear your side of the story, it makes total sense. You are correct; the Vietnamese were trying to play politics. I wish there had been a different outcome, but I fully understand your position."

"Thank you, sir," said Bob and Bill together.

Ambassador Flatt stood and moved his chair back to behind the large desk and sat down. He punched a bunch of numbers into the telephone and put it on speaker.

Someone answered at the other end, saying, "White House."

With a smile, Ambassador Flatt said, "This is Nicholas Flatt. The president is expecting my call."

"Hang on, sir," came the response.

They waited for about ten seconds before they could hear the click of a phone being picked up.

"Nicholas, how the hell are you?" asked the president.

"I'm doing very well, Mr. President, thank you. I have the entire band here in my office..."

"Welcome," interrupted the president, "I do hope I can arrange for you to play the White House sometime in the future.

"So, what's the deal, Nicholas?" the president asked.

"Well, sir, after talking to the two gentlemen who talked with the Vietnamese and our guys in Perth, it sounds as though the Vietnamese were trying to play politics with the group. They were told the visas that they had in hand were not valid since they were entering from Brisbane and wanted to get all their paperwork to re-issue new visas."

"What?" said the president in the same way the ambassador had done, "That's bullshit, Nick, consider it taken care of. I get the picture, and it's just as I suspected."

"How did it all start?" asked the president.

The ambassador nodded to Bob or Bill to go ahead and answer the question.

"What got us on the phones, to begin with, was a call from our pilot, telling us she couldn't get landing clearance into Ho Chi Minh City, Mr. President," Bob said.

"Well, it sounds typical. They always make access more trouble than it needs to be. They're just posturing thinking that we'll do something to kiss up to them," said the president.

"Thank you very much for trying. We had hoped that it would foster some goodwill, but their little game backfired on them, and now they're trying to make some noise about it.

"I will take care of it. Rest assured, everything will be taken care of. I'll talk with the Secretary in a few minutes. I'm sure he will have a few choice words for their ambassador in Geneva.

"Again, I do hope that we can work out a White House performance sometime in the near future," said the president.

"We should be back in the States in a couple of months, Mr. President. We have scheduled performances here in Manila at the end of next week, Hong Kong the following weekend then in Tokyo the following weekend.

"From Japan, we're planning on spending a month or two in Hawaii to rest from this tour and then back to California to begin working again."

The president had probably tuned him out at "couple months" but didn't interrupt. Those kinds of details were for staff to handle.

Bill finished, "If you have someone call me, I'm sure we can work something out. We're only scheduled for one tour after this one, but it's only that I don't like to get things too far out. Things can change."

"That would be great," said the president, "leave your contact information with Nicholas, and we'll get in touch with you in a few months. Enjoy the rest of your tour and your well deserved time off."

"Thank you, sir," said all of them at the same time.

Ambassador Flatt punched a button disconnecting the line to the White House and looked at the group with a big smile.

"It will be taken care of, folks. Thank you so much for coming in. We suspected what had happened, and you confirmed it. If they want to improve things, they will have to get off their high horse and stop playing games making visits so much trouble. They're losing out on a huge economic boom, and it's to the detriment of their people."

He stood up, and when he did, all of the band members stood as well. It was time to head out into Manila and see the sights.

Ambassador Flatt shook each of their hands again and walked with them to the front door.

Before leaving, Bob pulled out a business card and wrote a "ticket" for the ambassador and his family, either for the Friday or Saturday performance.

When the ambassador saw what it was, his eyes grew in surprise, "This is for band passes?"

"Yes, sir. If you give this to the security people, they should provide you with band passes so you can wander around backstage.

"I'm not sure if there are any regular seats available so you can have some really good seats," Bob said with a smile.

"Well, thank you so much," he said, "I think the family will enjoy the outing. We'll probably make the Saturday performance."

After going through another round of handshakes, Bob, Bill, and the "Girls" headed out to the limo to get their day officially started.

The limo stopped at the stadium for Bob and Bill to check the status of getting the equipment into the loading dock. They wouldn't be setting up for a week, so it was just ensuring that all of it was secure.

The roadies, as usual, had everything under control and let Bill know that the staff had already started building the stage and sound booth, so it should be done by the end of the week.

"Obviously, nobody is scheduled to use the place before our shows," said Bill. "You might ask about setting up the speakers. I'm assuming they're going to build the scaffolds."

"I'll double-check," said Peter, "I'm not sure what the weather is supposed to be, so it may not be a good idea to set anything out until we're ready and can see a weather report for the few days it will be set out."

"Will the stage have a roof?" Bill asked.

"It's supposed to," Peter said.

"Okay, so unless there is a driving wind if it rains, our stuff should be okay?"

"Hope so, but as I say, Bill, I don't think we should set anything up until our normal schedule next week."

"Hey, Pete, you're the boss," Bill chuckled, "do whatever you think is right, just let me know.

"Oh hey, Pete," said Bill, "once stuff is secured, enjoy your week. There's a lot of shit to see here, and we might take some boat trips to other islands. I'll let you know because you guys are welcome to come along."

"Thanks, Billy. I'll let the crew know."

With that taken care of, Bob and Bill made their way back to the limo. Then, it was on to the tourist attraction of the day. The girls had decided to hit the Zoological and Botanical Garden for the day.

It didn't take all that long to walk through the whole zoo. Then, after a late lunch, they wandered around looking for something else to do. Finally, the gang ended up back at the zoo sitting in a park on the property. It was a mellow, leisurely afternoon.

Taking a six-hour boat ride around the area was also a relaxing experience. They didn't do much other than relax a lot while waiting for the first soundcheck in Manila.

It finally came around on Thursday before the two shows they had for Friday and Saturday. The weather had been warm and humid, so it always felt a lot hotter than it was. Typical of the tropics, you never felt dry and comfortable. Jan was the only one used to the clinging, wet clothes.

They ran through their standard soundcheck and then played for about two hours just to play. They hadn't touched their instruments in over a week, so it was a refresher to get back into the regimen. They had a blast, and the people in the stands were adequately entertained.

Both shows were like all the other stops, but they didn't extend either the sets or the encores. The ambassador, his wife, and three daughters came to the Saturday night performance. His daughters were grown and appeared to be in their early to mid 20s, the same as the girls. The band members spent some time talking with all of them after the show.

None of the ambassador's daughters was musical. They were more academic, into sciences. One, Peggy, was working on an MS in theoretical physics. Another, Randi, studied particle physics, while the youngest, Patty, studied molecular chemistry, so there was quite a varied array of interests, but definitely academic.

Ever the diplomat, Ambassador Flatt stood and told his wife and girls that it was probably time that they left the band alone because they had to pack their things to head out. They'd be leaving for the next set of shows in the morning.

He thanked them for their indulgence, saying, "I'm sure the president will very much enjoy a White House performance if you can work it out. I will be sure to give him a very positive report."

After Ambassador Flatt and his family departed, they all poked around the dressing room for things that needed packing.

They were a little tired from the show this night, which happened sometimes, but not very often. It was kind of an anti-climax, and they were ready for a few days of rest. Bob could see that the tour was finally starting to put a drain on their energy reserves. Thankfully, they only had two stops to do before getting some rest in Hawaii, so they slowly prepared things to leave the following day for the shopping haven known as Hong Kong.

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It would be one of the shortest flights of the entire tour, only lasting about two hours, so they'd have plenty of time to see Hong Kong first thing. Everyone crowded around the windows when they made their approach to Hong Kong. Sarah had told them to strap in because of the approach, but they wanted to see the city.

When she made the hard right turn at the checkerboard onto the final approach, all of those in the back understood why she'd said strap in. For some of them, it was all they could do to hold on and not fall across the cabin.

Needless to say, the approach to Hong Kong is one of those challenges that will cause the most experienced of pilots to break out in a cold sweat. Sarah put them down on the runway without incident, but you could almost hear the heavy sighs from the flight deck once the wheels touched the tarmac.

Hong Kong is one of those far eastern, mystical places, which everyone always talks about. An incredible commerce center, it was always a place to shop till you drop, but buyer beware.

It appeared as though everything in the city was packed into a very tight space. They were scheduled into the Hong Kong Coliseum, where 12,500 people could sit and enjoy the show. Arriving on Sunday afternoon, they checked into the hotel and promptly made their way out onto the street.

The prospect of shopping had given everyone a burst of energy, but the short nap on the plane hadn't hurt any. Looking in both directions, they all got big grins and, with Bob and Bill in tow, decided to head in one direction.

It was only a short walk until they found an open-air market. They slowly walked through all of the displays, checking out all the things that were for sale, which included some exotic foodstuffs, which are not all that appetizing to the western observer. How many Americans do you know that would knowingly eat eel? There was a whole array of dried foods as well. Just about anything could be dried in Hong Kong, sausage, scallops, snakeskin, and even black moss.

"Some of that stuff looks gross. Do they really eat that stuff?" asked a squeamish Maryanne.

"If they didn't, it wouldn't be here for sale, honey," said Bill.

"Oh yuk," she commented, looking at him with a pained face.

"Hey, you shouldn't be judgmental about the things people in other places do. Not everything will be meat and potatoes like it is at home. Sometimes things are better elsewhere, but we're too squeamish or self-righteous to give it a try."

"Yeah, but... "

"Hey, they make use of the things they have available. I don't see anything wrong with that," said Bob.

"What about the restaurants? Do they serve that stuff?" asked Michelle.

"Probably. You'll just have to ask," said Bob, "I'm looking forward to some real Chinese food."

"Makes me want to find a Mickey D's," said Maryanne.

Janell and Heather weren't saying much, but they had palates that are more adventurous. They turned their noses up at some things but looked at others with fascination.

"If you want to try anything, just get a little sample," said Bob.

There were a pair of warbling, "Ewwwwwww's," coming from Maryanne and Chelly.

Then, both Jan and Hey looked at him and nodded.

"I haven't seen anything that I'd want to try yet," said Heather, "but the trip is just starting. We've got a few days to play."

"That's very true, and there is more than just food in these markets," said Bob, "there are clothes, trinkets, and all kinds of stuff. Don't buy any name brand stuff, like Jordache, or Rolex, or anything like that. The chances are excellent that it's a knockoff."

"Knockoff?" asked Janell.

"A fake. They make them look exactly like the real thing and then sell whatever it is for a bargain price. Even at the price they do sell it for is still a major rip-off."

"How can you tell?" asked Maryanne.

"If the deal seems too good to be true, it probably is. I don't care where you go in the world, you're not going to get a five thousand dollar Rolex watch for a couple hundred dollars.

"For instance," added Bill, "if you look closely at the Rolex, you'll see that the second hand jerks as it ticks off each second. That's a fake, using a cheap quartz movement. A real Rolex's second hand moves smoothly, no jerks."

"Just be careful what you buy," said Bill.

"If in doubt, ask Bill or me," said Bob. "Remember, we've both been here more than once."

They continued to walk through the market close to the hotel, knowing there were more and bigger shopping venues for later in the week.

The ladies had a really good time in Hong Kong. There were street markets everywhere with everything from tea bags, eels, hanging ducks, handbags, watches, and just about anything else you could ever want to buy.

But, in Hong Kong, it is buyer beware. In Hong Kong, knockoffs, or what they refer to as copies, are everywhere and can even be custom made just for you. Keep in mind there are no refunds, so if something breaks or doesn't work, too bad, so sad ... you been had. On top of that, you may get caught up in a raid, which happens very rarely, but you never know when someone hasn't paid up their bribes or they've pissed off the local police.

It was a window-shopping trip for the girls. Having been forewarned, it was difficult to tell what was real and what wasn't, so rather than get something that is fake, they chose not to get anything at all. A good policy when you're unsure of a marketplace that has a reputation for counterfeit everything. Unless, of course, you're looking for fakes, and many knowingly do.

They did buy some small things, and Heather found a fantastic deal on a beautiful Les Paul guitar, but the deal was too good in her mind. If it was an honest Les Paul, she lost a good bargain, but there's about a 99.99% chance that it was a "Made in China" knockoff. She just wasn't sure.

"That was so hard to pass up," said Heather, "but I couldn't tell for sure if it was the real deal or not. It was a three thousand dollar guitar that he was asking five hundred for."

"Let's go look," said Bob with a grin.

He'd seen these things before and knew how to tell if it was real or not. You just need to know what to look for. He and Heather walked back to the shop where she'd been drooling over the guitar. She pointed it out, and Bob went over to the guitar, picked it up, and sat in a chair to play. He gave it a strum, and it almost sounded okay, but a little too much on the tinny side to be the real deal. When he looked inside the sound hole, he began to laugh.

To Heather's questioning look, he said, "Look at the wood in the sound hole. Tell me what you see."

She looked at the guitar with new eyes and immediately saw what Bob was referring to. It was rough-cut and shaped wrong for its position inside the guitar. Something else she noticed was that the glue was slopped all over the inside. Gibson doesn't have that kind of shoddy workmanship.

She nodded at Bob with a smile, "I see it now that you point it out. It's definitely bogus, and really, it's not even that good a job. Did you notice the glue up?"

Bob nodded, "The wood inside is also the wrong kind. I know you see that it's rough-cut, which Gibson wouldn't do, but it is also the wrong color. It looks like pine or fir instead of ash, maple, or some other hardwood."

Looking at it again, he smiled and nodded his head, "Yeah, that glue job isn't very good, is it?"

About that time, the proprietor who had helped Heather earlier, attempting to talk her into giving him the $500 he was asking, came up, and in a typical sales manner, began to work on Bob.

Bob let the fellow go for a few minutes nodding his head and trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to hold back the grin.

He looked at the fellow and asked, "How much?"

So the guy went into his spiel about Les Paul and blah blah blah.

Bob looked at him again and said again, "How much?"

"Five hundred," he said with a smile.

"Five hundred?" said Bob to the nodding man.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," Bob said with a growing grin. "It'll make a reasonable wall display because people won't be able to see the shitty manufacturing job ... I'll give you twenty dollars for this piece of crap and not turn you over to the police."

Even Heather looked at him in shock. The guy tried everything to convince Bob that it wasn't a fake and that it was well worth the $500, but he'd give it to him for $300.

"Wow. That's quite an instant discount," said Bob. "It's not worth more than twenty dollars. You need to contact the shop that built it, tell them they need to do a better job of choosing wood, finishing the wood, and not to be so sloppy with the glue."

To the shocked proprietor, he said, "The Gibson people would take a very dim view of such sloppy workmanship with their name printed on it."

The man grabbed the guitar from Bob's hands and angrily said, "Not for sale."

Bob smiled at him and said, "I didn't think so. You need to be more careful about who you try to sell this crap to, my friend. Someone who knows instruments of high quality can spot this junk in a Hong Kong second."

Bob stood up from the chair and took Heather's hand while they slowly walked out the door, looking at the other knockoffs in the shop. Bob looked back at him, standing watching them leave, and just shook his head.

"Shops like that are the reason Hong Kong has such a bad reputation for quality goods. You'll find this shit everywhere you go in Hong Kong. That's not to say that there are not great values and quality products.

"In fact, I may stop in at one of the hundreds of tailor shops, one in particular that I know of, and get a couple of suits made. They're about a fifth as expensive here as in the States, and they are custom tailored, so they fit you like a glove."

"Can you get them before we leave on Sunday?" she asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah, they can make it up in three days if that's what you want. You just have to remember to tell them to double stitch and leave some extra material for letting it out later when you gain weight."

Heather just shook her head and said, "Come on, let's go find the rest of the crew."

They headed back to where they had left the other three women and Bill. Sure enough, they were still there poking through things.

When Bob and Hey approached, they smiled, and Chelly said, "Fake, huh?"

Heather nodded, "Yeah. It was apparent once you looked at it. Really poorly done, but it looked good on the outside.

Bill nodded and added, "They play on the emotion of a good deal to get your money before you see how poor the quality is."

"He wanted $500 then gave me an instant $200 discount," laughed Bob. "The piece of shit wasn't worth more than $20 and wouldn't be good for anything but a wall hanging."

Janell and Maryanne just looked up and nodded, then went back to picking through the box of things on the shelf.

"Find anything interesting?" Heather asked.

"Naw, mostly just junk," smiled Annie. "We're picking up some gift stuff, but nothing to write home about."

"Make sure you test everything you buy before you pay for it," said Bill. "If they won't let you plug it in or put batteries in it, pass. Most of the stuff is new but may not be very good quality because it was made in China."

"Is any of this electronics stuff any good, Bobby?" asked Michelle. "There's a lot of it, but it's just hard to tell if it's any good even if it works."

"Our next stop is Tokyo, sweetie. That's the best place to get electronics at good prices. You won't find much Chinese shit there," said Bob.

He chuckled and said, "A lot of years ago, 'Made in Japan' was a big joke. It was just like 'Made in China' is today. It was just cheap copies of things and low quality manufacturing. The 70's changed all of that.

"As soon as there was an oil crisis, people started looking seriously at those 'junk' Japanese cars that were getting twenty-five miles to a gallon, or more. Datsuns and Toyotas sold like hotcakes because they got great gas mileage compared to the American made gas guzzlers.

"It was a major turning point in the auto industry, and Detroit still has not recovered from the reputation they earned. It's getting better, but still not good."

"Datsun?" asked Janell. "What's a Datsun?"

"Oh, it's Nissan today," said Bob. "The Datsun was an American brand name. The powers at the top didn't think the USA would buy a car named Nissan. It had something to do with the war and racial slurs our soldiers sometimes used."

"Volkswagen beetles sold pretty well too," said Bill.

"It's what started the small car demand in the USA, and there were millions of them being imported."

"Ha. The Pinto with its flammable butt," laughed Bob.

"Remember the Gremlin?" asked Bill.

"Oh yeah. The American auto industry couldn't do a small car to save its ass in those days," said Bob. "If it wasn't Japanese or European, it didn't sell very well, and what did sell, if it was made in the U.S.A., was essentially junk.

"It turned out that Detroit was building the crap. The Japanese and European quality was way higher than the junk Ford, Chevy, Chrysler, and the like were making. It forced the big three to re-think their processes because their sales were in the toilet."

"American consumers finally found out why it was recommended they trade in their car every three years. It was because by the time it was paid off at three years old, it was falling apart," laughed Bill.

"Show me an American car, in those days, with two hundred thousand miles on it. A Toyota with two hundred thousand is just barely broken in," said Bob.

"They built muscle cars that were real quality automobiles, but because of the gas mileage issues, they were regulated out of existence."

"Yeah, if you can find a good muscle car or some of the higher end builds of the day you'll probably find a gem because, if they've lasted this long, they've been well taken care of."

"Anyway, bottom line, don't get electronics here, wait until Tokyo," said Bob.

"That works for me," said Jan. "I should probably get a couple of new Discmans for exercising. I'm also looking for a new camera and lenses."

"If you're going after a camera, you should have picked it up when we were in Europe," said Bill. "Best camera made is Hasselblad. They cost serious money, but they've got changeable film cartridges and some lenses that have some of the best optics ever."

"We didn't go to Switzerland," said Jan.

"No, but you could have gotten one in Germany for a great price."

"If you want the 2x2 format, you can get a Mamiya Sekor in Japan. I'm not sure about the film cartridges, but they have some pretty decent lenses," said Bob.

"What's the deal with film cartridges?" asked Michelle.

"You can load different films in different cartridges or backs, and then swap them out. That way, you can use different films for the same shot. For example, if you want black and white on one and high-speed color on another, you just have to have multiple cartridges loaded with the appropriate film."

"Well, I can check it out in Japan," said Jan.

They walked back towards the hotel during this conversation and stumbled on a hole in the wall restaurant. It was essentially a doorway with a shingle and a stairway going down. Bob will always look for the hole in the wall places to eat because usually, they have the best food.

"Let's go in," said Bob.

"Are you kidding?" asked Heather.

"Not at all," he said, beginning to go down the stairway.

The narrow stairway led into a beautifully painted and decorated little restaurant with about eight tables. There were Chinese people at four of the tables, and that, in Bob's mind, told him this was undoubtedly going to be good food.

When they were seated and given menus, they discovered they were written entirely in Chinese. Well, this is Hong Kong.

"This is going to be fun," said Bob.

"I can't understand any of this, Bobby. How am I going to choose something to eat?" whined Michelle.

"We'll just have to wing it, sweetie. Look at the pictures and if it looks good, try it."

"But how do we know what's in it?" asked Maryanne.

"Maybe it's better if you don't," laughed Bill.

"Ewwwww. You mean we might get eel or bugs or dog?" asked Maryanne.

"Probably not, but you can ask. I'm sure if you ask for the bug special, they'll do one up for you.

Laughing at the shocked faces, Bill said, "If she speaks any English, you'll be in luck."

When the young waitress came to the table with water and chopsticks, she smiled and asked in a very heavy Chinese accent, "Americans?"

Janell nodded, "Yes. Are there any menus in English?"

"No. We don't get very many English speakers in here, but they all come back," she said with a smile.

"Well, that's a good sign," said Bob.

"I'll let the ladies decide," said Bill diplomatically.

"I help you," said the waitress.

"Thank you," said Heather. "What do Americans seem to like?"

She leaned in and pointed to about six different dishes, and none of the pictures looked like eyeballs were looking back at them.

Heather told her, "We'll try those then."

"Wait, Hey, what is it?" asked Michelle.

"I don't know, Chelly, but she says that Americans usually come back, and those six things are what they usually order."

The other four girls just stared at Heather. The faces can only be described as dirty looks. Heather just laughed.

"Where's your sense of adventure," she asked them.

"It's not in my mouth," stated Maryanne, causing everyone to laugh.

Bob and Bill just sat quietly, enjoying the show. It didn't look like anything on the menu would be outrageous, so they'd just wait to taste it. They all drank their tea and waited for the food to come out.

All seven of them were experts with chopsticks, so it was no big problem when the only utensils they had were chopsticks. When the dishes came out, the cook came with them.

With a big smile, he bowed and said, "You like. It pork, scallop, chicken, and shrimp."

The waitress smiled at them while setting the plates on the giant lazy Susan in the middle of the table.

They each had small bowls in front of them and, having watched the other customers, learned that everyone took rice and then picked a little of each dish as they ate it. Not like on a plate where you would put a little of everything. As each of the plates came in front of you, the chopsticks would grab a small amount for your bowl. With a couple of things in the bowl of rice, you just ate it then added more when it came by. It was a slow, social way to eat a meal. After they got the idea and figured out how to work it, they were just munching away, talking actively.

"This is really good," said Maryanne. "I was pretty skeptical."

"Me too," said Chelly, "but yeah, it's delicious."

After a bit of time had passed, the cook came back out to their table and, with a big smile, bowed again, and asked, "You like?"

Every one of them nodded with a smile. "Very good," said Heather.

"Do you have some hot oil or hot sauce?" asked Jan.

"You wan ott?" he asked.

Janell nodded her head, and in a few moments, he was back with a dish of hot oil, which Jan took and put some on her food, then taking a bite, got a big grin and said, "Perfect. I like hot."

"Good ott," he said smiling. "You like?"

Jan nodded and said, "Yes. Very good, thank you."

He smiled again and bowed, turning to leave them alone.

If you had to describe the cook, it would be a typical picture of an older, skinny, Chinese man with a few missing teeth and wispy, thinning, white hair. Though teeth were missing, his smile was the kind that could light up a room.

"He really wants to make sure we're happy, doesn't he?" asked Maryanne.

Bob nodded, "If they don't get many Americans in here, I'm sure he wants to make sure we're happy, so we'll tell other people. I'm certainly going to tell Pete to let the roadies know this place exists. Shit, it's only a block from the hotel."

They all nodded with big smiles and slowly finished eating, leaving no leftovers. There wasn't even any rice left.

When the waitress came back to collect the plates and bowls, Heather told her, "You were right. Thank you for selecting for us. These things were delicious."

"Thank you," she said. "You make grandfather very happy because you enjoy."

"That's your grandpa cooking?" Heather asked.

"Yes," she said, nodding, "He has been doing this since just after the war. This was the only place he could make his restaurant, so it has been difficult. It's only a door, and most tourists won't try because it appears to be so small."

Bob said, "I always try these kinds of places because the food is always delicious. This is another one. We'll be back again. We'll be here until Sunday morning."

"You come back any time," she said with a smile.

"We will tell our friends and co-workers about it also," said Bill.

They stayed for another half hour watching to make sure they didn't need the tables.

When they were ready to leave, they all stood, and Bob walked over to the kitchen door and, bowing, said, "Thank you. Very good, we'll come back."

They could hear Grandpa say something to Bob in Chinese and noted a huge smile on his face.

Another symbol in a universal language...

The smile.

-----

"So nothing ever happened about the Vietnam cancellations?" asked Rebecca.

"No. Actually, it pushed some normalization forward because people that had tickets weren't real happy, and many of them were, of course, government officials. The local people in the villages couldn't afford to buy tickets, but even in that repressed society, our music sold well."

"Did you have any real issues in Manila?" asked Billy, the history freak in the group.

"Not really," said Bob. "There was politics going on all around us. President Aquino was still trying to get things stabilized after Marcos ran. There were still a lot of Marcos supporters because they had been on the gravy train that was now derailed."

"Didn't they try to assassinate Aquino?" asked Billy.

"Oh yeah, there were many coup attempts, but the loyal military always stopped them. It was usually some Generals who had lost all of their power and wanted to bring Marcos back.

"They did assassinate her husband when he returned to the Philippines from exile, which is why she was so popular. Most people hated Marcos because of the corruption but were afraid of him and his military."

"With good reason," Bob added.

"They had an election a few years before our visit, and Marcos declared himself the winner. It was always suspected that Aquino had won the election, but because Marcos had all the power, the vote count didn't matter.

"Corazon Aquino became a rallying point for political reform. It was that unrest that forced Marcos to run for his life, and when he left, Aquino was installed as the duly elected president."

"Isn't Marcos' wife known for a big shoe collection?" asked Maryanne.

"She had enough shoes to fit the entire population of Manila," Bob laughed.

"It was 2700 pairs or some goofy number like that," he chuckled. "It was used as a prime example of the corruption in the Marcos regime.

"When he was escaping to Hawaii, the government caught him with suitcases full of gold bars, money, and gold certificates, worth billions of dollars. He had literally looted the entire Philippine government on his way out the door. He still got away with a lot of stolen money, but if memory serves me, the U.S. government froze the assets, so they could be returned."

"Wow. So there were all kinds of politics going on when you did your shows. It's a good thing you didn't wander out at night or go too far."

"Nope. The furthest we went was on that boat trip. We stayed pretty close to the hotel most of the other times, which was a bitch because we were there for almost two weeks. It would have been more fun in Hong Kong," said Bob.

"How often did you go back to that hole in the wall restaurant in Hong Kong?" asked Renee.

"Almost every day," said Bill. "It was excellent food, and we ended up trying a lot of different things from the menu. The cook also made us special dishes that weren't on the menu."

"So you ended up eating eel?" asked Maria, scrunching up her nose.

"Maybe," said Michelle, shrugging her shoulders. "We learned that if it tasted good, eat it. Don't ask what's in it because you might not want to know."

"So there's no telling what you had," said Maria.

"Nope, we ate everything put in front of us that didn't look back or try to crawl away. It was all delicious, so I really don't want to know what it was because it doesn't matter."

"Did you get any suits, Daddy?" asked Rebecca.

"Oh yeah, I ordered two suits and two tuxedos on the Monday of our visit, and they were mostly ready by Thursday afternoon. I went in for the final fitting after our soundcheck on Thursday.

"I went back and got them on Friday afternoon. They had to make some small adjustments based on the fitting I did on Thursday, but they were ready. I've still got them today, and believe it or not, they still fit."

Bob had one of those kinds of metabolisms that didn't seem to allow any weight gain. He ate anything and everything and didn't gain any weight, ever. Somehow, he burned off all of the calories he took in.

"So, how did the rest of the Hong Kong shows go?" asked Tim.

"It went well, Timmy. The stadium was relatively quaint, but it sounded good. Bill did a great job on the soundcheck," said Bob.

"It wasn't that bad to set up," said Bill. "It was just balancing everything in an open stadium as usual."

In Hong Kong, the group had played extended sets on Saturday night, but Friday's crowd was somewhat quiet. Saturday seemed to have had a lot of the younger set in attendance. All night a lot of them would get up and dance in place or move into the isles.

When the shows were over, they packed up all of their things from the dressing room. Then, in the morning, they added all the purchases and clothes they had at the hotel.

On Sunday morning, Sarah had them winging towards Japan for the last two shows on the official tour.

They all thought, "Tokyo, here we come!"