I’ve set foot on every continent except Africa and Antarctica, have lived in Mexico City, Tokyo and now Hong Kong, speak English, Spanish and some Japanese, call New York home and love to travel. But I haven’t been to London.

London was always one of those places I meant to get to, eventually. But it wasn’t high on my list. Why London when Paris? Why London when Rome? Why London when Madrid? You get the idea. And so every time I went to Europe, I’d go somewhere else. Hell, I haven’t even transferred through Heathrow. I’m a complete London virgin.

Now that I’m approaching 37, I’m beginning to feel embarrassed that I haven’t been to London. People don’t help either, rolling their eyes and dropping their jaws in disbelief when I tell them.

‘”YOU haven’t been to London!? REALLY!!?? Why haven’t you been to London!? WHY!!??”

There’s a look of pity and slight disgust when people say this too. I know that look. It’s the look I give people when they tell me they haven’t been to New York.

“You haven’t been to New York!? REALLY!!?? Why not!? What’s wrong with you!!!???”

It didn’t help that one of my best friends told me after she visited London, “You’re not missing much. It’s just a low-rise, more expensive New York with bad food and ugly people.”

“What about Colin Firth!?” I demanded. This was pre-Clive Owen–I never did get into Hugh Grant.

Imagine my surprise when I turned on the television early this morning and saw Richard Quest, old rope around the dick, dildo in the boot himself, gesticulating from the Kowloon side, “And SO in the EARLY morning darkness, it’s DIFFICULT to imagine that just a few hours ago, THIS specTACular skyline was aglow with neon.”

He was jumping around the screen as usual. Poor guy, I hope he’s off the drugs. It’s great CNN stuck by their witty, weird and wild Jewish gay. A few months in rehab and presto, Richard Quest returns: quirks, twitches and nods. I love him. But I digress.

Richard goes on and on about Nylonkong: New York, London and Hong Kong smooshed together creatively. When Quest says it, it sounds like an evil Star Trek character’s name. I immediately googled Nylonkong Supreme Leader of the Anti-Federation Movement.

The idea behind Nylonkong is that New York, London and Honk Kong have managed to dominate the financial markets and thus hold the key to globalization, providing “lubrication, capital and expertise.” Come to think of it, this sounds right up Richard’s alley.

These three cities are all well known to a select group of banker wankers, high-rollers and all around tossers. Apparently, Joe Blow lives in London and often works in Hong Kong for a company based in New York (where he has a pied-a-terre and a mistress). He knows the best tailor in Hong Kong, the best sushi restaurant in New York, and the most magnificent antique gallery in London. Sounds like a fag if he didn’t have that former Miss Something or Other holed up somewhere in Midtown.

So now I’m itching to go to London. Why not? I’m not getting any fresher. I told my partner that if he has to go to London for work, I’m going with him no matter what.

“Why don’t we just go ourselves?” he says, “Schedule a trip to Europe to catch up with our friends who live there?”

“WHAT!!! I’m no going to rush through Paris and Amsterdam just to visit London. No way. Plus, I want to go back to Buenos Aires at some point in the near future, especially if my dad moves there. And what about the Australian Open? I thought we were hoping to go see Nadal pick his crack in Melbourne while he kicked some Roddick ass? What’s wrong with you? We’ll go to London when you have to go for work. Kill two birds with one stone. I’m not paying to go to some expensive, low-rise, New York with bad food and ugly people!!”

Maybe I’ll never make it to London. I’ll always be Nykong, or more specifically Las Sanicochitinko Nykong.