Sunday, June 24, 2007

Travel Tip #3

ps. those of you who've made it clear you don't like bad language can skip this one. It's only a word or two, but consider yourself warned.


Once upon a time, there was a charming, sweet, lovely, even-tempered, beautiful (and extremely modest) princess who lived in a wonderful land, far, far away. And although she loved her beautiful land, with its blazing hot temperatures and sweltering humidity levels, she wanted to visit other beautiful lands, also far, far away, preferably with much less sauna-like climates.

So she contacted the dwarfs at the Department of Travel and was told as long as she applied for a magical piece of paper known throughout the land as a "passport", she could travel. In fact, her "passport" would be like a golden ticket of admissibility to any land or foreign shore. And so, she applied. And she was happy.

Sadly, the dwarfs were not aware of their own limitations, or that many other beautiful princesses from all over would be applying for passports of their own, all at the same time. And the dwarfs failed in their issuance of the magical passport. And the beautiful princess was very sad.

But then! Friends of the princess told her that the dwarfs had decreed a new Department of Travel edict, and she could still travel far and wide, as long as she had the certificate of her noble birth, and her current, photo-ID Carriage License. Which she had. So she was happy once again.

The first day of her travels, she loaded up her carriage with all sorts of travel goodies, including three midget people who insisted on traveling with her, and the royal dog, and began her mystical journey. And she drove, and she drove, and she drove some more. And at long last, after an innumerable amount of carriage jams and road construction that brought her to many dead stops near a curious village called "Atlanta", she was able to continue, and finally arrived at a shithole motel wondrous palace where she could rest her weary head, and the heads of the midgets and the royal dog.

And so she crossed the moat into the entry way of this beautiful palace, where one of the serving-maids helped process her paperwork. And asked to see her magical credit card, and her Carriage License for security sake.

And this is when, the beautiful princess realized, to her total and utter dismay, that she had lost her Carriage License. For it was not located in the magical compartment in her magical royal handbag where it is held. Where it is *always* located. Where she keeps it, every royal day of her ROYAL DAMN LIFE WHERE THE HELL IS THE CARRIAGE LICENSE THEY WILL NOT LET ME INTO THE MAGICAL LAND OF CANADA WITHOUT THE FUCKING CARRIAGE LICENSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the beautiful princess, although not normally suffering from respiratory issues, began to have an asthma attack right there in the lobby of the palace. The serving wench looked on in boredom as she frantically dumped her royal handbag out on the counter in a desperate and futile attempt to locate the carriage license. And then she paced back out into the carriage lot, where she beseeched her man-servant with pathetic pleas for help, because "Oh my gosh we've planned this royal trip for so long and I've made sure every royal detail is covered and now it's ruined ITS ALL RUINED BECAUSE I CAN'T FIND THE FUCKING CARRIAGE LICENSE AND WON'T BE ABLE TO GO!!!!!!"

And her handsome and incredibly virile man-servant, who she hired in the first place for his level-head and calm manner, reminded her she still had her Government Issued Magical Military Land photo ID and that would certainly suffice for the remainder of the journey. But the princess was still not happy. For she had the rest of a long journey ahead of her and wasn't happy about the thought of guiding her noble carriage without proper licensure. Plus, she was pretty sure the knaves at Tire Plus had stolen the Carriage License out of spite, when she refused to let them do an additional forty-seven gold coins worth of work to her carriage earlier in the week when the were replacing the wheels of her golden chariot.

So began her verbal barrage against the dastardly deed of these knaves and their irresponsibility in forgetting to return her carriage license and how first thing Monday morning, she would use her royal cell phone to call those bastards and they would send her license to her at their own expense, by the fastest runner in the land, and they better hope for their own sake it got there in time.

And this entire time, the midget people who had been traveling with the beautiful princess were looking at her with fear in their eyes, for the histrionics and drama of the situation seemed forthcomingly extreme. But the princess was obsessed, and could not be calmed down as she once again searched her royal handbag and shook her dainty fist to the heavens and showered dark curses down upon the heads of the Tire Plus license thieves and their children and their children's children.

Then, she noticed the envelope velvet pouch that the teller elf from the bank Building of Wondrous Donations had given her the day before. An velvet pouch filled with gold coins ...... and with her Carriage License stuck inside.

And the beautiful princess practically wept with relief, and said a prayer of thankfulness to the Patron Saint of Lost Things (Andrew? Augustine? Bob? What was that guy's name?) that she wasn't actually losing her mind. And that she would be able to enter the Magical Land of Canada after all.

And although she probably should have retracted her dark thoughts and comments about the knaves at Tire Plus, she didn't, because the midgets were still watching, and they need to know *someone* is to blame for this emotional display of ginormous proportion, and the princess sure as heck isn't taking the fall for for her own temper tantrum.

And they lived happily ever after the end.


Anonymous said...

OMG!!! I haven't laughed this hard on a Sunday morning since....well, forever, I guess!
You're my kind of woman!

Dixie in CA

kim said...

What Dixie said...goes for me, too! That was freakin' hilarious. And just for the record, I love me some "bad" language. Bad language always succeeds in making me feel very, very rebellious, and everyone knows the world needs more rebellious 50-year-olds! Bottom line? I am SO happy you found the royal carriage license. As a fellow Virgo, I have gone through practically the same scenario, and the way it makes us feel inside just isn't right! I was just more fortunate in that I didn't have three midget witnesses :)!

And because it's been a while since I've told you--YOU ROCK! And you're gonna have a ROCKIN' vacation!

Anonymous said...

ROFLMFAO!!!!!!! Thank You!!!!!
I do believe it is St. Thomas you are refering to. Please correct me if I'm wrong (my Catholic roots are a little rusty these days).
Have a wonderful time!


jadine said...

I do believe it is Saint Anthony of whom you speaketh (patron saint of lost things), and OMG, I have felteth your pain. I, too, was on a magical voyage to Canada once, and FINALLY found my carriage license packed in my frigging suitcase (that I tore through in the ticket line at the airport). I was stressed and pissed, forsooth.

I hope that all the bad stuff is behind you, and that the rest of your trip goes fabulously!

I also hope that we're not hearing on the news about some drunk naked lady going over-board (literally) while on an Alaskan cruise! (Doesn't the going-overboard thing seem to be happening a lot lately?) Just sayin'.

lizinsumner said...

Okay, even the Catholics can't agree on which saint aided you; and being a heathen protestant, I'm afraid I'm no help there. So, if happily ever after involves boarding a plane in Atlanta, flying to Seattle, renting a car and driving north to Vancouver to board the magic ship, a word of advice from one of the water-logged local trolls: there are only 2 major routes north from SeaTac to the border - Highway 99 or I-5. Both involve slow traffic through the city at just about any time of day - because the state of Washington doesn't like to build new roads. Load up the carriage with lots of soothing, calming junk food, make sure the carriage tank is full, find a good station on the radio, and give yourself plenty of time to get north. Oh, and don't forget the royal carriage license!!!!!! Have fun - and DON'T skip the lifeboat drill! PS - it's in the high 60's/low 70's (if we're lucky!!) here, with normal humidity - enjoy!

lizinsumner said...

Ooops - forgot - caffeine (in the form of cafe latte, specifically) makes any traffic jam/slowdown more bearable....just be sure to stop for a potty break as soon as you hit Snohomish county......

Anonymous said...

Aaaahhhh yes.....St. Anthony!!!! That rings a lot of bells. Thanks Jadine!


Tracy'sspace said...

Oh god, but this sounds so familiar!!!!!!!

The Running Girl said...

Oh my gosh. I about had a cow when I read you lost your license. It was all I could do to keep reading and not skip to the end to see what the outcome was. I am so glad you found it, though (and I have done the same thing - thought it was lost while it was really just in with the money I had taken out of the bank the day before). Hoping that there are no more "scares" along the way and that you and Blaine make it safely on the ship.


Anonymous said...

yep, dear st anthony come around, somethings lost that can't be found! Glad to see the fairy tale had a very happy ending with the finding of the carriage license! :)

Leesburg, VA

Melissa said...

Oh my gosh! Thank whatever Saint it was that helped you find your damn royal carriage license! I was freaking out reading this entry; I thought you weren't going to make it to the royal land of Canada! I went on a cruise last year, and if I flew from CA to FL only to find out my passport wasn't with me ~ by jove, I would've had to...well, I don't really know what I would've done, but I can assure you I would've been the most pissed off person in Miami! So glad you found it! Have a wonderful royal journey, my dear princess!

Anonymous said...

~Anthony, Anthony look around
Something's lost and must be found!~
St. Anthony is the patron saint of missing things and trust me, he has found many things for me!! In 1995, I won a cruise for my husband and myself. Four days before the cruise, the travel agent "reminded" me that we would need a birth certificate & license. No problem, my mom had given me my birth certificate when I got married in 1978 and surely it was in the security box with alllll of my important papers.......NOT!!! Since I was born in Bremerton, Washington in 1956 and now lived in Alabama and it was Thursday before our sailing on Monday, I knew I didn't have a SNOW BALLS chance in HELL of getting a copy!! My dear mother-in-law told me to Pray the prayer to St. Anthony. I woke up at 3:30 in the morning with something telling me to look in the bottom drawer of my dresser, and lo and behold there it was!!!! It was pretty spooky because I had emptied all of those drawers looking for it! I call on St. Anthony a lot for lost keys and such and he always helps me.
~Debbie in Alabama~

Kelli said...

OMG, I've had this same temper tantrum a few times myself. I always blame someone else for my distress...even when I eventually realize that I was at fault. Can't wait to see what adventure happens tomorrow...though I know you'd rather not have another glitch. I loved they way you wrote the story too; very creative!

cate said...

Hmmm...this entry reminds me of another fairy tale first told last Labor Day weekend.

There once was a moody princess getting ready to move from the hot, sweltering, buggy, miserable kingdom of Texas to the wonderfully, cool lands of Oregon. When she went to pick up the big, yellow chariot that would carry her belongings westward, she discovered the wenchs at Wal-mart had lifted her carriage license while they changed the carriage's oil.

So our lovely, moody princess got to go to the land of Texas Department of Carriage Vehicles for a replacement carriage license so that she might get an Oregon carriage license without having to retake the carriage test and so she could rent the big, yellow chariot. And she too cursed those bastards at Wal-mart.

There's nothing like standing in the freaking DMV line when you should be home packing the damn truck for a driver's license you'll only have long enough to give to the Oregon DMV for a new one.

I feel your pain sister!

Cano Jack said...

Girl, there is a travel book in you yet!

Kiss those midgets for us, and have yourself a stein of Royal froth of some sort!

M, Ms. R, Mom, Auntie M, Marey said...

...St. Anthony...he finds lost shit...and Motel 6...they will take your will have to put up with full sized beds though...but, hell, kids stay free!

Go Girl...and remember, it is harder to get into Canada than back into the U.S.

Happy Trails!

Cathy in MI said...

This was the best thing to read on a Monday morning - laughing so hard I have tears. Kristie, I am so glad you found your license. I always worry and freak out about that stuff when we are traveling. "What if my purse gets stolen and I don't have my license, how would I be able to fly home?" That sort of thing...

Have a wonderful time on your cruise, you guys deserve it!

Anonymous said...

Oh my !!! If ever there was a day I needed a laugh, it was today..
Hope your carriage ride goes much better since you found your royal carriage license.. He He He ....

Oh an it was Saint Anthony of Padua, patron saint of lost and stolen articles, he was a powerful Franciscan preacher and teacher.

Sue in Texas

Sara said...

I had a similar issue with my own velvet bag filled with gold coins from the Building of Wondrous Donations. Except I realized my carriage license was missing at 10 PM on a Friday at a bridal shower in a small town, middle of nowhere, an hour from my home. Then, I realized I had thrown away the velvet bag at work and proceeded to take out the trash when I left for the weekend because I am so diligent. (Or fat and was afraid of the smell that a week’s worth of food wrappers would create!) Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal. I would simply go pay the DMV $25 for a new license on Monday morning. But oh no, of course this particular weekend was filled with a bachelorette party and going away party the following day...BOTH taking place at bars that would require my carriage license for me to gain entry. So I did what any level-headed person would do. I hauled-ass back to town, went back to work, and dug through the dumpster behind my office until I had retrieved my carriage license. Keep in mind it is now after midnight and I am in an ally, downtown, and digging through a dumpster. Did I mention that my office shares our dumpster with and Old Chicago Restaurant! Or that my trash bag was the ABSOLUTE last bag in the dumpster, buried under nasty food, and I couldn't reach it so I had to find a chair in a nearby courtyard to climb on & dangle my body half way into the dumpster! It was one of my classiest moments to date! (And no, none of my supportive friends offered to accompany me. They basically laughed at my stupidity and wished me luck while they continued consuming alcoholic beverages.)