Back when I was in college, my roommate Nathan had the somewhat common problem of figuring out whether one girl really liked him or was just being nice to him. Liz, new to his Navy ROTC, had told him that on a datability scale, he ranked a 9. Nathan wanted my opinion of what that meant, and, being a good and honest friend, I told him, “She probably just said that because she pities you.”
Anyway, they just got married over this weekend, and it was a lovely wedding and reception. Hell, the reception had an open bar, and that, plus the facts that I was the only groomsmen who wasn’t already attached and that – if I do say so my self – I was devilishly handsome in my tux (almost made me wish I brought my PPK to complete the “James Bond” look), meant I spent most the night dancing and hitting on the maid of honor, brides maids, and various other single women. So, in short, I had tons of fun while you all were deprived of my witty and hilarious posts.
Now what was my point… oh yeah: if you’re a terrorist, don’t try getting through the Melbourne, Florida airport. I went there at about 1700 on a Friday when you’d think they’d be busy if they ever were, but the airport is so small there was practically no one there. But, at the security checkpoint, they still had like twenty people standing around even though they only had like two people a minute walking through. So you have like five people watching the x-ray monitor anytime they finally get a chance to scan something, and they don’t mine being thorough. While my briefcase went through just fine (which only contained small pieces of plywood and a couple empty cans of shaving… don’t ask, I don’t have an explanation), they spent a while examining my old sneakers. Eventually they decided to test them to make sure they weren’t bombs. That was fine with me as I wasn’t in a hurry, and neither were they. I was pretty sure my old, worn sneakers weren’t explosive, but it was remotely possible a terrorist had switched my normal sneakers with explosives ones, matching the wear pattern on the original sneakers so I wouldn’t notice. Also, I don’t always watch what I’m walking through, and maybe they could have become explosive by accident. They turned up clean, though (I mean not explosive), which not only makes the other passengers feel safe, but let’s me sleep soundly at night as well. I still don’t keep my sneakers near my bedroom, though, when I retire for the evening; you can never be too cautious.
As always, thanks for being a reader. I’ll return with normal programming tomorrow morning. I haven’t thought of what the post will be yet, but, God-willing, it will be funny.