About a year ago I was eating an overpriced Caesar salad during a two-hour layover at O’Hare Airport. I was giddy with my good fortune to secure a stool in front of a large TV, and was rewarded by the Braves as they were ahead of the Cubs 4 to 2. The “My Pillow” guy had just appeared on the screen between the eighth and ninth innings when a space alien sat beside me.