So I was on the way home from Fort Lauderdale, where I’d spent a couple of weeks helping my mother pack and move (the details of which are a tale for another time), when I spotted a guy at the airport walking quickly by while wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the face of a mustachioed man chomping a cigar.
I pointed at his chest as he passed and asked, “Stan Lee?”
“No,” he said, followed by him revealing who it really was, which I heard as “Ditko.”
“Ditko?” I asked, surprised. “Steve Ditko?”
“No,” he answered, baffled by my cluelessness. “Coach Ditka.”
And thus do two fans confuse each other!
