On a cold winter’s day, I sat in my favorite chair. I was lonely though. All I could think of was my beloved Hong, sitting somewhere in China without my modest company. It was a bleak prospect indeed.

I decided right then that I would give her the best Christmas present anyone could give her: me.

How you may ask? I contemplated many ways of getting to her. Should I fly? No, I was never one for heights. Should I rent a submarine? Again, no, for I am a bit claustrophobic. Then it hit me.

I should become a stowaway! Of course, the choice was obvious now. The pirate movies I had watched countless times could lend me more guidance. It was then that I began my trek across the continental United States to reach the Pacific Ocean, and my path to Hong.

From my hometown in Wisconsin, I hitchhiked to the west side of Colorado before I was caught by the police. After a night in the town’s local jail, I was on my way to the coast again.

As my journey plodded on, I saw many new places and met many new people. Unfortunately, I was not much of a people-person. I had forced myself upon an alien world, thus turning into an alien myself. I walked down the roads and through the cities confidently. I smiled at complete strangers, and sometimes I would stop to chat, which many times would end in a ride to the next city on my list.

After what I can truthfully say was my longest trip I’ve ever undertaken, I had finally arrived in California, with its movie stars, beaches, and, most importantly, the coast.

As much as I wanted, I could not sight-see along the wharfs and piers and sample the scrumptious seafood. I was on a mission, and I could not stop for a passing fancy.

And then I saw it. The sparkling blue Pacific Ocean, cargo ships and cruise lines dotting the water like black freckles in the sunlight. I do not know how long I stood on that bluff, staring.

But I did know that I was going to have to find a place to sleep before dark. I had no money to stay in a cheap motel of some kind, and no car to sleep in, parked in some parking lot.

Had I hit a block, already this far? No, most certainly not. I left the bluff and headed towards the docks, a plan already in place.

I would stroll through nonchalantly through the docks, acting as a curious tourist. Then, under that guise, I would look for a deserted dock, one that had a voyage posted, hopefully heading for China, and climb on the boat and tuck myself away in a secluded corner.

As I walked along, I spotted a few large crates, with the Chinese flag plastered to one of their sides. Upon closer inspection, I found that these crates were bound for China, aboard the cargo ship Mother Of Pearls. I quickly located the ship and looked about. No one seemed to be around, so I carefully made my way across the gangplank and jumped the last few feet to the deck.

The metal decking was white with the dried layer of sea salt. I poked my head into the cabin and saw a small table situated in the middle of the little square room, surrounded by three bunk beds on three of the walls. Pop cans and potato chip wrappers littered it, and five hands of cards lay discarded, awaiting the return of the crew.

I stepped out and continued along until I found the stairs that led down to the lower levels of the ship. I carefully walked down the slick metal stairs, as the sun had not yet had time to dry the water from the latest rains. The sunlight that reflected off the stairs cast a dim light, leaving the far corners in shadow.

Other crates were already stored down here. Some were headed to China, and others were bound for ports in India, whose names I had no chance at pronouncing.

As I was inspecting a crate, noise from on the deck startled me. The crew was back! I hastily hid myself behind a great big crate, its wood smelling like pine. The laughter of 

the men boomed down into the cargo hold where I hid. Footsteps from above echoed loudly. A metallic hum began to resonate deeply through the hull.

There was a loud thump, sounding like metal on wood, as the crates I saw outside were being loaded on the deck.

Heavy footsteps clunked down the stairs. I shrank back behind the crate even more.

“Yeah,” called a deep voice, “there’s room down here for the rest!”

Another man answered indistinctly. The man climbed back up the stairs. The rest of the crates thunked dully above.

If the other crates were coming down here, was I going to be found? After all, there weren’t very many hiding spots in a big open space like this.

An enormous clang echoed in the cavernous hold and a crack appeared in the ceiling, getting wider as I watched it. The California sun advanced on the dark shadows in the far corners, beating down from above until the only shadows were those of the crates I was already hiding behind.

A giant metal arm swung into view overhead, and there was a large crate attached to the cable that was slowly lowering.

I began to panic. If anyone should look down, they would surely see me now that the cargo hold was open and exposed. I looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and made a mad dash to the stairs, flinging myself under them. At least I would have more cover here.

The floor shook when the first crate touched down. The thundering of footsteps grew louder as the crew came down into the hold in order to position the crates.

The men were scruffy, but that was to be expected, of course. They were also big. Their muscles bulged – they could’ve won a body-building contest. They were a very 

happy bunch though; their jokes and deep laughter made the muscles a bit less imposing.

After the third box had been positioned, I relaxed a bit, leaning back against the wall behind me, more or less confident that I would not be noticed. Four boxes later, I heard a shout from above saying that was the last one. The men tromped back up the stairs and their voices faded away. Loud metallic groaning started up and the large barn doors of the cargo hold ceiling began to slide shut.

As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the sudden gloom, I could hear the quiet lapping of the water against the metal hull. The constant footsteps from above faded into the background with the waves…