Iam a morning traveller – if I’m going, I want to go early – before weather fronts move in, before a full day of delay and difficulty throws things off track and while, in the full glory of the rising sun, the pilot can see where he’s going. I enjoy waking while it is still dark, kissing a sleeping child goodbye and tiptoeing out – a sweet and swift escape. A shiny black car waits downstairs. The car slips towards the Midtown Tunnel and out of the city with an ease that one hour from now will be impossible. En route, the sun peeks over the edge of the horizon. Kennedy Airport’s new $1.3bn, 2.2m sq ft terminal is a cavernous testament to the high hopes for the future of air travel.

I click into my Buddhist-in-training mode – breathe deeply and surrender to the environment – the postmodern, post-9/11 experience of travel. Who are you, where are you going, where have you been? Did you pack your bags yourself? In an effort to minimise the stress and feeling of being cross-examined, I have worn shoes easy to take off, have my computer at the top of my carry-on and, the night before, I emptied my pockets of loose change.