At the coffee bar at Fiumicino, waiting for my buddy Barb to land from Detroit. For a major international airport this one has always struck me as kind of dinky. Still, I love the vibrancy of places like this. The gates of Xi'an must have had this same sense at the height of the Tang Dynasty, and the port of Venice in the trading days. The New York docks at the turn of the last century, all that commercial bustle and flood of immigrants. A place where many paths and errands meet. (Two points if you get the reference without Googling.) The mix of speeds: people racing to make planes, confused people looking around tentatively, groggy people shambling off long flights (like me). Conflicting emotions: weeping goodbyes, glorious hellos. And characters: a tall high-heeled young woman in a long black sleeveless dress slit up to her hip, elegantly rolling a suitcase and suddenly stopping when the guy she's with wraps his arm around her waist to give her a great big smooch. Which she allows, looking amused, and they walk on. Four white-robed, red-headwrapped Saudi men with four of the largest suitcases I've ever seen piled on a cart. They're leaving but they seem to have plenty of time and are making their slow, grand way to check-in. A mom and kids just arrived and dad brought the dog, a Jack Russell, to the airport to greet them. The little kid (about five) and the dog can't get enough of each other while mom and the two older kids are all over dad. When Barb gets here, after another coffee, we'll make our way into the city (it's possible, I'm telling you right now, we'll wimp out and take a cab) and then call Carlos, my writing partner. We'll spend the next three days assiduously researching and meticulously documenting various locations for the new thriller. And researching the pizza, cappuccino, and gelato available near each.