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.

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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.