Raise the Flag, the Queen is Home

Several weeks ago, I ordered some Christmas gifts online.  While I was browsing for these gifts, I ran across one of the greatest things I have ever seen:  the solar powered waving queen.

 As a huge anglophile, with a tacky sense of humor, I found these delightful.  More importantly, I knew my mother would get a kick out of them, so I ordered her one.  Nothing cures the blues like a solar powered monarch in pastels!

I anxiously awaited the surprise.  I knew it'd make her laugh.  I couldn't wait to see the tacky thing.  And then, the package didn't come.  And didn't come.  And didn't come.  At first, I thought nothing of it.  It's a busy time of year.  Then, I thought that maybe this company was just slow.  And then, I began to get irritated.  I had paid shipping for this package.  Where was it??

I tracked my package obsessively.  I needed those other gifts, there was a time factor involved.  Plus, I needed the queen!  NEEDED HER!  The package took five days to process.  I found that excessive, but was willing to overlook it.  Then, it took three days to prepare to ship.  Three days!  Finally, the package left.  It was on its way!

Next, the package took a five day pit stop in Indiana.  Do I live in Indiana?  No.  Do I live anywhere close to Indiana?  No.  Why did it sit there for five days?  I have no idea.

Then, it shipped to my local area.  Apparently, it came via Pony Express, because it took that long.  It arrived to my local area, but never came to my door!  Where was my package?  More importantly, where was Queen Elizabeth?

Ten days later, I was pissed.  I started making phone calls.  I needed that package within 24 hours!  And the queen, what about her???  The tracking info said it had arrived locally, but it never came to my house.  The company was eerily silent about the package.  On a whim, my sister and I happened to be near the postal loading dock annex that is approximately 10 minutes from my house.  My sister suggested that I go in, even though it doesn't even really have an office open to the public.  I went in some door, came to another door, and rang a doorbell.

A man that looked exactly like Moby opened the door.  I explained my predicament to him.  He told me that he didn't know anything about the package.  I then got out my handcuffs, chained myself to the mail sorting machine, and began chanting "Free the Queen!  Long live the Queen!  Free the Queen!  Long live the Queen!"

In the middle of the third round of my chant, a postal worker from the bowels of the annex piped up and asked my address.  It seems that the random postal worker knew about my package, and it was sitting in a corner.  10 minutes from my house.  FOR 10 DAYS.

Immediately, smoke began pouring out of my ears and I gave a new meaning to the term "Going postal."  I then cleared my throat, and in my best Patrick Swayze voice, shouted "NOBODY puts Lizzie in the corner!"

OK, so the sit-in and smoke things didn't really happen.  Neither did the Patrick Swayze thing.  What DID really happen was that I tossed that package under my arm like a football and sprinted out of there - only to find that my solar powered waving queen did not work!  To quote one of my Canadian friends, "Vot da hoont??"  She probably worked 10 days prior to my picking her up!!!!!!

After another very tersely worded email, a replacement queen was sent.  This time, rather than the Pony Express, the company used the Concord to deliver her.  And, without further ado, I present to you, HM Queen Elizabeth II.

Just like those fine people in Britain who get angry at the slow moving, antiquated ways of the monarchy, they take one look at their beloved leader, in her sensible shoes and her solar paneled purse, and all is forgiven.

It's good to have you home, Your Majesty.