I ate the beating heart of a live snake in Vietnam. Here’s why I’ll never do it again.

“Eat your heart out.” That’s what the guide’s shirt said. The cartoon snake lay sedated in a submissive position near the hem, his big, Disney-esque eyes staring brightly from the chest. His fangs dangled like wet noodles over an anthropomorphized smile with comically exaggerated dimples. Back at the snake’s body, a Valentine heart pumped through a slit in the scales like a Loony Toon in love, while a small Vietnamese man stood next to it in awe, mouth watering.
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