This evening we went out to O’Hare Airport to pick up my sister, who was coming back from a really swell vacation in the Northwest. O’Hare on a Saturday night is fairly bipolar: at once a bright, effective, ordinary machine chugging along with all the lights on; and a forlorn waiting room, its shiny gray expanses dotted here and there with irritated TSA and a few tired people waiting for the night’s last arrivals.  But, you know, even in a shiny gray cavern, there’s always something fun to look at, if you can find it.