You remember standing in the slow, snaking Space Mountain line in the muggy heat for two hours. That was unpleasant, but it was part of the price one paid for the ride, and it was at least fair in that everyone else who rode that day paid the same price.

Almost everyone else. The Disney people had a no-waiting policy for handicapped persons, and you watched with mixed emotions as a mentally disabled fellow was ushered like a visiting diplomat straight past the line, and directly onto the roller coaster. Envy for his priveleged treatment, offset by pity for his condition: his wordless moaning, his sideways mouse-ear hat, his vapid thousand-yard stare, his fudge ice cream cone dribbling unchecked onto his elbows and knees… All taken with all, you would not trade your life for his, even including his Disneyworld perks, would you?

Well, that guy you pitied has a blog, and he has a confession to make.