It was a dark night, a foggy night, a something-bad-might-happen kind of night. Our ship was docked in the port city of San Francisco, and we were hell-bent on having a raucous two-day shore leave.

One of the guys, Kirby, told us we could each get ourselves a few China dolls, nothing like what we would find in any souvenir shop overseas. And we were more than ready to make a purchase.

We entered Chinatown through the Dragon Gate. The smells of garlic, ginger, incense, and jasmine intrigued our noses, colored paper lanterns hung from lines criss-crossing over the street, multi-colored temples, the sound of faint music from an Erhu, windchimes blowing in the breeze, the clicking mahjong tiles of old Chinese men, the ruckus of loud voices as vendors sold their wares: fruits, vegetables, seafood, and m...

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