Rudi clearly was doing his best to cater to the reverse snobbery with his studiedly offhand rejection of a stretch limo and endorsement of "a little van or SUV." At any rate, as modern snobs, we took the sedan. With a sedate middle-aged driver, as promised.

After the fact, Rudi told Wendy about some other things he did for us behind the scenes. When he booked our flight from Seattle to Rome via London on British Airways, he says, first class was oversold. (Hard to believe, at those prices, but apparently true.) To make sure we wouldn't be bumped, he signed us up for BA's frequent-flier club and somehow got us elite status even though we had zero miles in our accounts. In one swift move, Rudi thus demonstrated three of the gifts of a great travel agent: anticipating a problem, figuring out a solution, and having the clout to achieve it. And, as I said, he even got us a discount on the ludicrous ticket price.

Ordinarily, Wendy informs me, Rudi e-mails clients a seat map so they can choose their seats (without the hassle and apparent indignity of going online to do this themselves). He sends a copy of the menu in advance, checking for preferences and allergies and making sure the airline won't run out of the clients' choices (hardly worth the trouble for the food on BA, if there is no allergy issue, despite the gazillion-dollar ticket price).

Rudi says that he agonized about which of the two superb hotels in Ravello to send us to. The Caruso was magnificent, but the general manager was fairly new to the hotel. (This may suggest that there is a thin line between anticipating a problem and imagining one. Rudi practices a sort of vicarious hypochondria on behalf of his clients. But it is luxurious and soothing to have someone attending to all your problems, even if he has to make some of them up.) Furthermore, the suite he had picked for us was still under construction and wasn't scheduled for completion until two weeks before we were to arrive. What if it wasn't ready? We might have had to settle for smaller accommodations. But on the other hand, the Caruso has a spectacular infinity pool where the water seems to pour into the Mediterranean far below. What to do? Well, it was clear to Rudi what to do. He called an old friend who is the managing director of three Italian properties for Orient-Express, including the Caruso. The director assured Rudi that he would, in Rudi's words, "work day and night to make sure the suite was ready in time." Which of course it was.

Apparently, it is not standard operating procedure for all senior staff to be present, and for the restaurant to be open, when a guest arrives at 9:30 or 10 p.m. But they were and it was—for us. Other niceties included fifty—count 'em, fifty—roses presented to my wife on her birthday and champagne in our room. Rudi told Wendy that he would normally know a client's favorite champagne, but in this case he didn't want to spoil the surprise by asking in advance, so he told the hotel to guess.