At the risk of sounding like a mediocre standup comedian, what’s up with Chicago’s O’Hare Airport? I hadn’t frequented it in a while, but I had the misfortune of having a layover there Monday on the way back from Montreal (whose Trudeau airport is a paragon of civility in comparison) and was appalled by the lethargic swarms of humanity, bloated with lousy food and puffy with jet lag trying to maneuver through its grim confines. To add to this claustrophobic nightmare scenario, the overpowering stench of fried steroidal cow wafted through the stuffy air. I couldn’t help thinking that terrorists would have a field day here. But then I ate a surprisingly tasty roasted vegetable sandwich from Starbucks, of all places, and almost all was right with the world for a minute.