So I’m in the Atlanta airport with Sharansky’s new book. I was coming up an escalator reading about his having looked for a bookstore in New York because he “had a few free hours and probably the same weakness as any author: wanting to see your book on the bookshelves.” And as I get to the top of the escalator I notice a book store on the left, and what do I see front and center on the shelves but my own book! (Yes, OK, that was a cheap plug, but it really was a weird coincidence.)