If Public Square is like a high-school hallway, the airport is like the cafeteria. The constant buzzing of conversation hardly wanes during the many P.A. announcements. Small clusters of people sit or walk together, some laughing and some fretting. Those sitting alone with their nose in a book, or leaning back pretending to sleep, steal glances at the individuals around them, examining the clothes of a couple speaking French or eavesdropping on a discussion between two laptop-toting men in golf shirts. Members of the cleaning staff trudge by, pitching half-empty cans of pop and candy-bar wrappers into wheeled trash bins. Ah, the glamour of it all.