The heavy security presence is understandable. The Republican National Convention is, after all, as perfect a target for terrorists, Occupiers, and acid-filled-egg-toting anarchists as you could imagine. One safety measure is seems fairly gratuitous, however. As I learned this morning while passing through the security checkpoint at the entrance to the Tampa Convention Center (the media's headquarters at the GOP convention), no fruit is allowed inside. I had a banana with me. I ate half of it quickly and threw the rest away. I wasn't even hungry.

But the prohibition on fruit was too perplexing to ignore. "What about, say ... vegetables," I asked the TSA agent manning the checkpoint, in my least sassy voice.

"Vegetables? If you brought in a bag of diced onions, I wouldn't care," he told me.

"So, really, it's whole produce that you're concerned about," I suggested. "People can throw them, I guess?"

"Now you're putting two and two together," he told me, as I walked away.

It still didn't make a lot of sense, though. You could throw pretty much anything. I could get up right now and throw a chair at the guy sitting next to me. But, rules are rules.

Or are they? Moments after passing through security, I peeked inside the Google Lounge — a colorful, Wonka-like room full of exotic chairs, a coffee bar, and various computer displays showcasing the many wonders of Google — to find a snack table replete with oranges.

There is some kind of conspiracy going on here, but, like the whole onion I am not allowed to bring into the convention center, one must peel back many layers of deception in order to find the truth. Which seems like a lot of work. I'll probably just stop eating fruit.