Decades ago, I got stranded overnight at Las Vegas’s McCarron International Airport. I had a night to kill in Sin City, and didn’t even have the brass in my pocket for a cab ride to the Strip and back. In the middle of a nearly-sleepless night listening to Steve Lawrence and some jackhole named Bernaducci reminding me to ‘Walk on the Left, Stand on the Right’ on the airport’s many moving walkways, I found myself wishing that a fully loaded KC-135 from nearby Nellis AFB would crash into the terminal and put me out of my misery . . .