MOVE ALONG, NOTHING TO SEE HERE
YUKON, Canada: Edward's mouth runs amok at border crossings. Not three months ago, he told a grim soldier that we were going to Bosnia "for lunch".
Granted, the comment was truthful ... just a bit more breezy than the bomb-cratered checkpoint warranted.
Today his audience is Canadian and much less sinister. "We're driving from my home in Skagway to her house in Seattle," my friend announces.
"How do you know each other?"
"We met in the Middle East."
Again, Edward's not wrong. We became friends on assignment in Jordan two years ago. But must he court disaster by describing us like a sleeper cell?