Trust me, I really enjoy travel. But today I’m in a funk. Standing around an airport trying to confirm my flight doesn’t count as “travel”. Welcome to Saturday in Hong Kong, where Brian tries to fly home. Sounds easy, but it’s not.
It’s 8:30am on a Friday. I’m in Shenzhen, holding on to the door handle of a Volkswagen taxi cab, as my driver practices for his inevitable trip to the Nürburgring.