When OH suggested to Good Buddy that they take a vacation, GB required very little time to warm up to the idea.
"Done. Where should we go?"
"Whither thou goest, I will go" OH replied.
"Yes, obviously, but where do you want to go?"
"I was thinking of Tunisia." In a flash of prescience OH saw herself standing outside a tent in the desert, awaiting the arrival of a dark, Rudolph Valentino-like man. A sand storm billowed ominously on the horizon where a dromedary and rider could be seen galloping wildly before the gaping maw of the storm. OH's eyes shone with a wild and spectral gleam.
"Right, where do I want to go then? Tunisia sounds too much like tuna." GB was oblivious to her friend's vision. Fortunately, OH was easily distracted.
"It sounds more like tennis than tuna."
GB frowned. "Tunic then. That's right in the middle."
"Agreed." With that settled, the friends decided to visit a travel agent for help deciding where to go.
At the Innocents Abroad travel agency in downtown Smakalot, the pair eagerly looked through brochures.
"Ooh, New Zealand!" OH breathed. She read aloud: "Travel packages starting at $500 through Aboriginal Airlines."
"That would be interesting. I've heard that the pilots and flight attendants are pygmy Aborigines with bones stuck in their noses."
OH made a disapproving face. "How can one maintain a professional demeanor with a bone sticking out of one's nose?"
Good Buddy wasn't listening. "I think when flights are delayed they eat people", she said.
OH begged to differ. "Only if they're cannibals and they can't all be cannibals or they wouldn't be able to operate an airline."
"I'll bet they could" GB retorted, just for the sake of argument. "Anyway, they either eat or pinch passengers, I can't remember which."
"Awfully unprofessional either way" OH muttered.
"It's all relative." GB sometimes thought that OH's dedication to professionalism was a trifle overdone. She was pleased to fire off what proved to be the parting shot in the conversation before the travel agent opened his door and asked them to come in.
Our Heroine and Good Buddy settled on a 3 day, 4 night cruise on Atlantis, a floating city owned and operated by Libertarians who utilized the ship as an enormous, off shore tax shelter. The travel agent painted a very attractive picture of life aboard Atlantis, assuring them that there were absolutely no rules onboard.
"Everything you do on Atlantis is guaranteed to be guilt free, conscience free and responsibility free. The only price you'll pay is for the cruise itself, ha ha ha!"
A brochure showed groups of happy, heavily armed people basking in the sun, drinking from glasses embossed with the ship's motto: "Live Free or Sink."
OH and GB booked a travel package on the spot and spent the next week in preparation and expectation of the voyage. After several uneventful flights, they arrived at Puerta Seyalayta and embarked on the monstrously huge Atlantis, home to approximately 4,000 libertarians.
At first they found the size of the ship somewhat overwhelming. Within the first hour, though, Our Heroine decided what her mission for the trip must be. She quickly familiarized herself with a map of the decks and found the command center which housed the PA system. She had trouble with one of the ship's officers until she told him she had a life threatening concern that must be addressed by the captain alone. Gaining admission to the room, OH immediately seized the PA handset.
"May I have your attention please, ladies and gentlemen? This is your maritime sanitation engineer." OH's anti-littering admonition, part command, part appeal, was abbreviated by the captain's and first officer's attempts to arrest the handset from her vice-like grasp.
Her last words, fading somewhat as the mouthpiece was wrenched from her, were, "Think of the whales, I beseech you!"
From that moment, OH dedicated the bulk of her time to patrolling the decks, keeping her eagle-eyes trained on potential litter law violators. Her vigilance paid off one bright morning when she spotted a tall red-headed man leaning against the deck rail, smoking a cigarette. OH closed on him as he finished his smoke and prepared to throw the butt into the water.
"Halt, wretch!" OH cried in her most authoritative voice.
The man stared.
"Do you realize that the penalty for dumping in these waters is a fine of 20,000 dollars?"
"I live on this boat, honey. Don't tell me what I can't do." The libertarian said this very pleasantly, smiling broadly at OH. He calmly flicked his cigarette overboard.
"Why, you impudent--!" She began.
"It's called freedom to make choices without intervention. I have the right to litter if I want to, sugar."
Our Heroine wasn't cowed by his propaganda. "What about my right to not have to look at a trashy ocean, hmmm? What about my right not to have to put up with you? Did you ever think about that, hmmm?"
Her voice grew progressively louder toward the end of each sentence. The first "hmmm" was like the buzzing of a hive of killer bees preparing to attack, the second "hmmm" was the sound of a fighter jet roaring full throttle down a runway.
Grinning, the libertarian dangled a chocolate milk bottle over the rail.
OH enunciated her words, saying very clearly and slowly: "If you drop that bottle I will beat you like a red-headed libertarian." The man shook his head, tossed the bottle to OH and walked away chuckling.
Later that day, after eating dinner in the formal dining room, GB and OH watched as couples danced to the music of a mariachi band. Suddenly the red-headed libertarian appeared at their table. He smiled warmly and placed his hand on Our Heroine's shoulder.
"Look, we got off on the wrong foot today", he said.
OH scowled at both of his oversized, pointy-toed cowboy boots. Neither one looked right to her.
"I'm sorry if I made you mad, but I really couldn't tell whether or not you were serious."
"I assure you, it was no joking matter." OH's voice could have iced over the Gulf of Mexico.
"Ha ha! You're a hoot. Would you like to dance?"
"I do not dance with defilers. Let's go, Good Buddy." OH stood and turned her back on the dumbfounded man. Head held high, she glided away like a queen.
In her mind's eye OH gathered her sweeping train in one hand and held it aloft with enviable elegance. In reality, a cloth dinner napkin clung to Our Heroine's dress, spread to capacity like a sail in high winds. A wave of titters followed her as she strode across the room.
When she was halfway to the door, the napkin began to slide south, making its way down the length of her skirt. In an instant it had wrapped itself around one ankle while OH's other foot pinned it to the floor.
She dropped like a bowling ball and rolled with a velocity similar to that of the aforementioned ball. But Our Heroine was back on her feet in less time than it takes a Polish bowling champion to yell "Strike!"
"Call the Captain!" she screamed, "We've hit an iceberg!"
