Joy of Europe

A Work of Fiction (any resemblance to any person living or dead is a darned shame): A friend of mine- a genuine lady that I have had the pleasure of knowing since the days of high school hijinks- recently divorced. To celebrate her new found freedom, this lady who I shall call "Karen" decided to treat herself to the Grand Continent. The voyage did not start well as our world traveler could not fly directly to Europe from Nashville but had to go on a connector flight first to tourist paradise Detroit. Her fellow travelers insisted she had to try the freshwater mussels harvested in a nearby Great Lake or maybe it was the wonderful ground turkey Swedish meatball, but whatever the case, upon landing in Norway, she had to deplane in fashionable Delta Airlines' blanket sarong for her trip to the Oslo emergency hospital for fluid restoration. Needless to say, she landed in a grim and morose country, still mourning the worst crime, a senseless mass murder, that had ever visited that little nation. Upon release from hospital, Karen toddled around for typical tourist jaunting, only to meet some nice African gentlemen who decided to liberate her purse and passport by means of broken English and threats with sharp, pointy objects and then insisted that she undress, she feared for an obligatory rape which must be bon ton this season for attractive, blonde unaccompanied American female tourists, but all these non-Scandinavian gents wanted was to make sure that Karen was not concealing a money belt. Not too much of a disappointment by not being forced to submit further, poor Karen had to request the assistance of the United States Department of State without proof she was even an American. In this security conscious age, they do not make easy to replace a stolen US passport, and how beside her Southern accent and perfect American idiom could Karen prove that she was . . . well, "Karen". Fortunately, in her college days, she met someone who is now a Foggy Bottom honcho who managed to replace her official document and had it catch up to her by the time she reached Paris. Karen managed to make it to London just in time to be locked down in her hotel until the authorities are able to put down the ongoing riots. Wow- that is what I call a trip- I had better call Karen's travel agent now.