Here’s the worst thing about leaving town: my server always dies. No, wait, the worst thing is not being able to get my laptop online to diagnose the problem. No, wait, the worst thing is having to rent a slow Windows PC with a Greek keyboard and a gimpy mouse, by the minute, because I have to try to fix the problem anyway. No, wait, the worst thing is the Internet Cafe people have stripped out all the control panels so I cannot change to the Dvorak key layout and I’m therefore reduced to hunting and pecking as I type my desperate emailed help requests. No, wait, the worst thing is that in the stress of the moment I cannot remember any of my passwords because I haven’t used them in two weeks. No, wait, the worst thing is that everyone around me is sucking down cigarettes as if the faint wisps of fresh sea air coming in the door are toxic and must not be breathed at any cost. No, wait, the worst thing is the NetCredit timer software ticking away my last Euro seconds before I finish composin