Dateline: Orlando. The Tragic Kingdom.

Welcome to The Happiest Place on Earth!

That is to say, the people that run this joint are the happiest people on earth. And what’s not to be happy about? Families flock here from all corners of the globe for the express purpose of emptying their pockets.

But not me. Not this time. I’m not here for the Disney experience. This is strictly a no-frills business trip as evidenced by the something-less-than-five-star accommodations




And the blend-in-with-the-locals mode of transportation.



While not technically “under construction”, the hotel lobby is undergoing some sort of face-lift, preparing for the onslaught of the unforgiving summer hordes. Those columns aren’t artfully glazed, they’re just half-assedly primed for a pending paint job, which may or may not happen in the next 60 days.




So far the highlights of the trip have been a couple of meetings on the back lot of Universal Studios.




And the unprecedented hassling by said lot’s security personnel.




Ordinarily, I’d sleep well tonight knowing that the soundstage for TNA Wrestling is safe from a terrorist attack. Until I’m reminded that there was only about one more smart ass comment between me and a rigorously thorough body cavity search. It's that kind of crap that's going to keep me awake.