Hey There, Blimpy Boy!

I knew that security was going to be "super" tight when I made the trip to Tampa, and it was interesting to see what sorts of reinforcements were in the city during the weekend I was there.

On Saturday I took a ride up to the stadium area, which happens to be in Tampa's Sleeze District. The stadium is conveniently sandwiched between dozens of strip clubs on the Dale Mabry Highway. I don't know who Dale Mabry was, but judging from the businesses on his road, I can only assume he must have been a famous pimp or something.

Anyway, it was interesting to see how many police and military helicopters were circling over the stadium all afternoon. And obviously there were tons of police guarding the stadium (and nude clubs, I guess) too.

So taking all of the security into account, I have to relay a story about my brother from earlier in the week. As many of you know, my brother is a photographer for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and he spent the whole week covering the game in Tampa. Early in the week he had an opportunity to do a feature story about the Goodyear Blimp, and they took him for a ride in it.

At one point, they actually turned over the controls so that he could pilot the blimp for a while! I admit that if I had been given that opportunity, I would have instructed my loved ones to inscribe something on my tombstone about the experience when I bite the big one, and it would have rightfully been at the top of my resume.

But from a security standpoint, that seemed a little bizarre, especially if you know my brother. You would think that during the planning for the security, all agencies involved would have some sort of priority list. You would think that the top of the list would say something like, "Don't let terrorists screw with us." And right below that it should say, "Don't allow a Smoot to pilot a blimp."

I guess everything turned out alright nonetheless, and no innocent bystanders were hurt. And my brother now has something cool to add to his tombstone.