My first trip was when I was one year old.  My family moved to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia from Colorado for my Fathers work.  I don't remember anything of those days so let us leave it. 
     We moved and traveled quite often but the first time I traveled solo was flying from San Francisco, California to Miami, Florida.  I believe I was fourteen years old.  Perhaps older, perhaps younger, but fourteen is close enough.  My Father was a pilot, and I could fly for free.  So I decided to take a day trip to Miami.  I cannot tell you why I chose Miami but there I was.  A boy dressed in Khakis and a nice button-up shirt, as employees and families had to dress up to fly in those days, flying across the country.  No hotel reservation, no car, no friends or family waiting.  A few dollars in my pocket and a small backpack full of dreams.  I was ready to take on the world.  
     I wish I could tell you that this trip is imprinted in my mind.  That the bright lights, beaches, and colorful people are all shining memories in my head.  But it would be a lie. My little white cells consist of riding a city bus with vague impressions of colorful Art Deco buildings, and of walking into a hotel lobby that was on the beach.  I didn't spend the night in a hotel and ended up sleeping on the beach, so why I walked into that hotel or what I did in there is as unknown to me as it is to a perfect stranger.  I have either blocked that trip out of my mind or it was so uneventful that I never formed any memories.  I have no desire to ever go back so let us leave this as well.  
     Shortly after this jaunt of mine my family took a trip to Hong Kong.  My father, mother, brothers and I flew across the massive Pacific Ocean to a strange land. Of the flight I remember nothing save the landing, but oh how that landing will be imprinted on my mind until I am dust. 
     Kai Tak airport was famous for it's approaches, and rightfully so.  I remember looking out the window, as I always had to have the window seat, and seeing buildings on both sides of the plane rising above the wings.  A tunnel of buildings big enough to swallow a 747, the Queen of the Skies, is not something a young boy will forget.  

     Our hotel had an exquisite doorman, and the lobby was extravagant, but details I cannot give.  I believe all five of us stayed in the same room, but I must have had a cot to myself, because early the next morning I couldn't sleep and got up before sunrise.  I quietly escaped without waking anybody to see what this city had to offer. I bowed to the doorman and set off on my adventure.  No money, no map, mobile phones were still unheard of, and I had not told anyone where I was going.  I was an American child walking alone in a strange new world. 
     It was quiet at this early hour, save for a garbage truck and two men cleaning under a bridge.  My feet lead the way as my head leaned back and my mind admired the sheer number of gigantic buildings that seemed to reach into eternity.  Soon enough shop fronts began to open and people filed into the streets.  When I got tired I sat down on a bench, picked up a newspaper that was laying next to me and pretended to read the illegible characters  on the page, as if that would somehow fool the people into thinking I was a local. 
     I walked on, passing electronic shop after electronic shop until I was stopped dead in my tracks.  I, as a city boy, was staring into a shop of nightmares.  Red and white items were hanging in the window, which looked to be animals, but my mind could not accept it.  This was a boy that had once been served a chicken leg for dinner by his mother, started crying and naively asked, "Where is the rest of the chicken?" as if the rest of it could be found, it could somehow be put back together and walk and live again. 
     They resembled ducks, chickens, geese, dogs, and others.  Strung up by their necks or dangling from hooks in their backs. It was a scene of butchery this man wishes he could forget.  After staring for some time and imprinting the full scene deep into my memory I put my head down and walked on in a trance. 
     Somehow I crossed a bay that separates two parts of the city.  If I sneaked on a ferry I cannot say.  Not because I fear being arrested or fined by the authorities, but because I lack the memory.  What I do know is that I got to the other side where I was presented with a steep hill.  There was a tram going along the road up the hill but I decided to walk, perhaps to show these people how strong an American boy is, but more likely the reason being that I had no money to pay for the tram and was unable to sneak aboard. 
     At the top of this hill was a shopping area, and an ancient old man pulling a rickshaw.  He came up talking some crazy made up language and pointing to his transportation device.  I tried to wave him off but he was having none of it.  He took my hand and put me in the passenger seat.  Off we went around the market.  One simple loop and then he gestured me to get out, which I happily complied with.  His palm then opened up hoping for the clink of coins.  Since my pockets had not jangled in quite some time I tried to take some consolation in the knowledge that I may just have taught him a valuable lesson in picking his marks.  As it was I just turned and walked away.  Back to my hotel, and a ghost white mother, I went, having seen all of Hong Kong I needed to see. A towering city where foreigners of all ages can sight see unmolested and get free rickshaw rides.