Orlando

I’m just back from Orlando - “The Happiest Place on Earth.” Or the cheesiest.

I’m having trouble with that whole “invisible thing” again. My squeeze introduced me on Saturday to one of her colleagues as “Jim.” My name is NOT Jim. I can see why she’s confused: we’ve only been dating six years and living together for five. "Jim." Geeze.

As I was going through airport security leaving Orlando, I was taking my things out of the tub that had just been X-rayed. The TSA fellow looked into one of the bins and took out a tiny vial of nitroglycerin. “Is this yours?” he asked.

“No. Whoever left it probably won’t even know it’s gone until the next time he starts having chest pains.”

“Yeah,” the TSA fellow said, “This is not his lucky day.”