My head buzzed with too much beer. It was only 9 p.m. at night and already I was hallucinating of a long hot shower and a comfy bed.

“Please, take me to Sheung Wan, Western Market,” I slurred to the cab driver.

I was at Jordan, which is at Kowloon side of Hong Kong. To get back to where I live, the cab would need to take the underwater tunnel.

The cab driver took a quick look at me on his rearview mirror, and after he was satisfied that I won’t puke in his cab anytime soon, he promptly turn on his meter a full five seconds before the damn cab started to move.

“Sheung Wan, ah? Difficult to get there. Got road block. Many police”

For a moment, my heart stopped beating. Police? What? Did my apartment catch fire?

Sense came knocking a few seconds too late for my liking, but they did eventually. I wouldn’t be so unlucky, would I?

“Ah, police…” I slurred. Fighting down a sudden nausea, I ventured, ” Why are there police?”

“Demonstration. Lots of people near the town hall”

And he was right. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that Central had suddenly become a car park for police vans. There were many of them lying around, with throngs of policemen swarming the place. They outnumbered the placard-carrying demonstrators 5-to-1, easily.

Maybe I was having double vision – I was literally seeing through a layer of beer – but some of them were even carrying rifles and stick. The police, I mean. You would think the Taliban were suspected to be in attendance, at the very least.

But I reached home in record time. My journey was smoother than usual, all things considered, except for that few extra seconds the cab driver and I gawked at the debacle.

Later that night I discovered the reason behind the protest.

I should really fix my TV at home and watch the news more often. One should at least be aware of the society he lives in, shouldn’t he?