So I'm training faculty at Saint Leo University this week. Now, Saint Leo is a small university (1000 or so traditional on-ground students) located about 30 miles north of Tampa. Here's the weird bit -- it's nestled in a little town called Saint Leo, Florida.

Coincidence, you say?

Well, get this: the town and school names are unnervingly like the name of the Benedictine Abbey there, which is, in a surprise twist, called Saint Leo Abbey. Now, I'm the last guy to jump to conclusions, as a rule, but when I saw that the Abbey was named as such, I began to be suspicious. Hey, I saw The Name of the Rose; I wasn't born yesterday, gentle readers! And if there's one lesson I took from that movie, it's that monks are devious. You know, I'll bet this is somehow a papist plot.

But let's leave my detective skills aside for a bit. I've been driving back and forth from Tampa each day to the school, because my sister EWS just moved to Tampa, and I wanted to be able to hang with her when possible. That, and the chances that rural Florida would have a hotel with broadband internet access were about nil.

At any rate, at some point this morning I got a leak in my tire, and the way I found this out was that a guy from down the hall came to our computer lab this morning to say that my car now had a flat. How did he know it was my car, you ask? Well, the guy comes in and says:

"Excuse me, but does anyone in here drive a tan car?"
(No one jumps to answer.)
He continues: "It looks like it could be a rental car..."
My ears perk up. "Might be mine," I offer.
"Drink a lot of Starbucks?" he asks with a smirk.
"Er, yeah, I guess..."

Some people have no sense of decorum. Just because I hadn't gotten around to cleaning out the trash from this morning's coffee stop, he says I drink a lot of Starbucks. Whatever, dude.