A couple of months ago, I had an appointment with a new doctor, just hours before I had to fly to the States. We didn't know each other, this new doctor and I, but he seemed like a nice guy. I was in a rush, and needed to get back home to pack. All I wanted was my prescription, so I could get meds before I got on a fifteen hour flight to LA. But he was in a kind of friendly mood. “Why you going to the States?” he wanted to know. “Work,” I said, not terribly effusively. “What...