I was only half paying attention to where I was walking, when I looked up. There, before me on the street corner, stood a lone figure, bathed in Wan Chai's seductive neon light.

Maybe it was the intoxicating perfume wafting off the lady boys causing me to hallucinate, but I could have sworn it was Donald Tsang Yam-kuen standing there.

I rubbed my eyes, took a deep breath and looked again. Dark suit. No-nonsense haircut. China-Hong Kong pin in his lapel. A bow tie. It was him all right.

Now, I have never had the gift of a quick wit. I can always think of clever things to say three hours too late. So I walked right by the chief executive. I was halfway down the block and already kicking myself for not having a good line ready for such a meeting when I stopped and turned around. I may never have another chance to gab with such an important man. I would certainly not get to do it surrounded by transvestite prostitutes.

I walked back to the corner and he was standing there, looking at his watch and then the road, the way people do when their ride is late. A handler stood some distance away talking on his mobile phone.

As I drew near, Mr Tsang lifted his head, caught my eye, and smiled. What was I going to say?

'Can you believe those hot chicks over there on the corner are really dudes?' No.

'So what's with the bow tie, anyway?' No.

'Man, you are way shorter than I thought you would be!' No, although he was.

I decided I was going to tell the chief executive something I have wanted to say for a long time - that Hong Kong is my home, too. I'll probably never have right of abode here or Chinese citizenship because I am the wrong ethnicity. But I've lived in Hong Kong for five years and don't intend to leave any time soon.

My life is here. I pay taxes here. And I am tired of people asking me where I am 'really from' when I say I am from Hong Kong. I am a Hongkonger.

Maybe if I told the chief executive that people like me love Hong Kong too, it might spark some bold initiative like anti-racism legislation. Maybe the government would learn to embrace people from around the world as citizens, Chinese or not. Or maybe I just couldn't think of anything more thoughtful on such short notice.

'Uh ... Mr Tsang?' I said, holding out my hand. 'Congratulations, sir.'

'Thank you very much,' he said, shaking my hand. He reached up and gave my shoulder a welcoming squeeze. Wow. What a friendly guy.

'Sir, Hong Kong is counting on you,' I said.

He smiled. 'I will do my best.'

We looked at each other for an uncomfortable moment. I was about to launch into my speech about how I loved Hong Kong as much as the next guy, but he spoke first. It may have been the look on his face, but I knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

'So, where are you from?'

Doug Nairne is a Hong Kong-based writer