A friend of mine loves airports. He loves watching people come and go, waiting and meeting in those wide, brightly lit halls. He loves speculating about them—who they are, where they’re going, why they’re leaving. What their stories are. I’d say airports are among his muses. He’s so fascinated with them that he’s written a series featuring his friends and how they would be at an airport. I’ve read two of those shorts. Sadly, I’m not in any of them. No worries, though. Because in four—count ’em, four—days, I’ll be that person in the airport. Another face in the crowd of people waiting to take off. Another story waiting to unfold and be told. With this story being four years in the making, it ought to be a good one. From dreaming to doing It still hasn’t completely sunk in that I’m finally going on my Eurotrip. It isn’t the exact same trip I’d dreamt of back in 2012. I’m not going to Russia, since that received a firm no from my parents. And I’m a …