Two buildings in downtown Tampa are connected by a "skybridge" tunnel, which runs over the busy street between them. When I'm going to the building on the far side of the street, I'll usually enter the nearer building, zip up to the third floor and take the tunnel over the street. It beats waiting for the walk signal, especially if it's raining.

Today, when I went in to do this, I was required to sign in and show ID. The guard asked what suite I was going to. "One thousand," I said.

"Oh, <law firm name>?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, though I actually have no idea who's on the tenth floor. As I finished signing in, I asked, "So what's all this about, then?"

"There's a war on," he grunted, as though it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

"Ah, this'll really help win it, then," I said, and went about my business, which had nothing to do with the tenth floor, or in fact any floor in that building.

Afterwards, I wondered exactly what purpose it did serve. If I were a terrorist bringing a briefcase bomb into the building, how would signing my name prevent me from doing so? There were no metal detectors, the guard wasn't searching anyone's bags, and I was able to give false information and go right on in. Since he just glanced at my driver's license to make sure it had the same name that I wrote in the log book — I didn't even take it out of my wallet — it could very well have been a fake printed up on a BubbleJet.

The skybridge was completely unguarded. Anyone entering the building that way would have complete, unfettered access to the first ten floors. Anyone coming down to the first floor from the skybridge could easily go the back way to the second bank of elevators, and avoid the guard in the lobby.

So I'm not sure exactly how signing my name, when entering a building containing a bank and a bunch of law firms, will help in The War Against Terror. But you've got to do these things, you know. There's a war on.

Ihre Papieren, bitte?