In spite of a financially ill-advised decision to fly in business class, I emerge into Shanghai’s Pudong International Airport feeling utterly shattered.
My taxi driver holds the steering wheel in a death grip directly under his chin, and he leans over it peering blindly into the night through coke bottle glasses. It didn't take me long to realize that he is in fact blind as a bat, but he wasn’t letting that minor inconvenience slow us down. He veered through traffic at speed, swerving at the last possible second to avoid catastrophe.
I winced and flinched and wished mightily that the seat belt worked. It didn’t, so I took the coward's route of falling asleep. I didn't wake until screeching tires and honking horns greeted our exit into downtown Shanghai.