I wanted to order my breakfast from a waiter not an iPad

Eating is a social pleasure - touchscreens just serve to make it more solitary

Last month, in New York, I saw the future, and I didn't like it. Let me first set the scene. Booked on an eye-scorchingly early flight, I arrived at Newark airport before dawn, feeling fiercely alone, as I often do when I travel for work: a bagatelle ball, pinging around, unseen by those I love and who love me back. The airport was quiet and I passed through security quickly. On the other side, I sent a couple of emails and bought a newspaper, and then it hit me: I was ravenous; hungry like a wolf. I wanted some breakfast. I needed some breakfast. And so I set off to find some breakfast.

Hunger in these situations isn't straightforward. My stomach was empty, it's true. But I also had time to kill and spare dollars in my pocket. The potential for boredom flickered away in the glare of the artificial light. I didn't want to make conversation with anyone, but I did want to receive that particular form of ersatz kindness a waiter may offer to a person travelling on their own. "Coming right up," they tell you in America, as if you were their best ever customer, and an order of coffee the most original and daring request ever made. In the right mood - or perhaps I mean the wrong mood - this line has the potential to reduce me to tears.