The city’s airport is a dump. I really shouldn’t be surprised; every other building in this dark and gloomy city is derelict or a pawn shop or a liquor store. But the airport is really something else. It looms on the horizon like some giant, sickly animal. Its huge concrete façade is gray and crumbling. The floors are sticky, the windows cloudy, and there’s an ever-present smell of diesel fuel and desperation in the air.
