I was traveling around the world, and needed to hitch a flight from Paris to somewhere further south; my friend tells me where I can get a cheap ticket, but I've already got one; nevertheless I end up living for a long time with my father running a Chinese restaurant stand... eventually I rush to the airport and get a plane -- though worried up to the last minute that I won't; on the plane we take off and I'm having a conversation with the person next to me until he points out we're flying low, barely over this tower and definitely not over the next, going slowly and erratically; looking down we see evidence of war -- a tank crushes a bunch of cars, troop transports rage in the midst of explosions; we drop lower and I dive out of the plane onto the top of a speeding white van -- then I get off this onto a mountain bike, hoping absurdly to finish my journey this way; my front brake seems like it's catching, I fool with it and accidentally release it completely, pull off towards the side, noticing that the road ahead cul-de-sacs, surrounded by ocean.