Just about 11 months ago, I moved out of the Marriott Hotel in Islamabad. It had been my home for two months. Today a suicide bomber tried to blow it up. News reports say he attempted to enter the hotel through a nightclub entrance. That entrance is on the side of the hotel, near the laundry entrance where the marriott staff laundered and pressed my clothes every day. Including underwear. Across the street is a gravel and dirt parking lot where the valets park cars, and where I parked my rental car when I didn’t feel like using the valet service. You always had to keep an eye out for drivers drifting across lanes when you walked out of that parking lot — they habitually swerved around cars that were going to slow or turning. In the mornings I checked underneath my car the first few times I parked it in the lot, even though the lot was guarded. On those days, turning the key in the ignition sucked.