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One taxi passed, then another. I imagined our bike ride in hell, through the crowded and polluted city, over the four-lane bridge spanning the great river, into the run-down suburbs, down the back-alley shortcut, past the muddy fields that stank of human feces, to the gated school that resembled a concentration camp. This constant movement, this relentless affirmation of nothing, was, I decided, an expression of Chinese willfulness and hope. Any poorly thought out plan could simply be compensated for with more effort and sacrifice on the part of the subordinates carrying out the plan. I found Craig hiding like a spaced-out Marine sniper in the corner of the lobby behind some fake plants, his paranoid eyes scanning the wide hotel drive.

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Escape From Yangzhou – Yangzhou, Jiangsu Province, China

Looking in the mirror, I saw that I had aged ten years in the last week. Your students are waiting for you. The sun glared as I squinted at the traffic. Craig tried yelling at me to still my restlessness; he threw Ambien and dog tranquilizers at me, but medication was no match for a maniacal mind set on self-cannibalization. She had walked across the bottom of the Pacific Ocean and now she was stepping onto the beach in Newport.

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Hours later, close to midnight, I was sleeping by our gate when a slap woke me. But there was no fixing the problem; there was no fixing China. The shower I took at midnight made me shiver, and then I was overheated and breathing hard again. I began to think that all my worrying was paranoia, but when I checked my e-mail, I found this message from Walter: I wondered if China would cost me my job at the university — Sharon, in typical heavy handed Chinese fashion, would seek retribution for our transgressions. Craig was pacing like a penned up primate, his lips pursed.
This morning we told our boss the food was not very good when we first got here, but the food is very good now. The entire setup was a third-world boondoggle. To come back to America with literally nothing seemed a fitting end of my trip. We were somewhere maybe two or three hours north Nanjing. Of course this was all fantasy, created by the program director, Sharon Zu, and me. It pleased me to see him panic, revived me like a tonic. Passing time this way was a painful exercise in endurance.

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