There was something very strange about the airport when I finally touched down in Zhengzhou.

At first, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I exited the plane, walked down the little hallway towards the terminal. All around me, people were walking, muttering to each other in a particularly gutteral Chinese. This one Chinese girl, with curly hair that had been lightly breached, was talking to her son, and trying to get him to stop crying, and eventually just reached down and snapped his neck. Another, a business man in a nice suit was on all fours, gnawing on a bit of carpet that had curled up at the side of the hallway.

This isn’t quite normal, but you come to expect people to be eating strange things and raising their children in strange ways when you travel in a foreign country.

It was the giant stone monkey head that gave it away.

I wasn’t in Zhengzhou.

I wasn’t even in China.

It had become abundantly clear to me…

I was in a K-Mart!

That’s when I woke up.

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13 February 2005