 Saturday morning, the doorbell rings, and like many Americans, I answer it. I open the door, and there's this guy dressed in a banana suit holding a flute. Why me? I say to myself, why do these people always pick me? Then the guy hands me his card, A1 Banana Control. He says, you've got a banana problem, and I'm the answer. And I'm thinking, hey, pal, I'm the answer. You're the problem when a real live banana drops out of the light fixture and lands on its feet. Four little feet and hightails it right out the door. They sense my presence, this guy says to me.