Roman Holiday

Princess Ann was overwhelmed with her royal duties. Though she was on a European tour, she could not escape the burdens of her throne; she could not live apart from her title of "Princess." Oh, how she longed to be just Ann! During her stop in Rome she made the bold decision to throw off the shackles of regality and embrace common life with vigor and passion and reckless abandon. She decided to take a Roman Holiday.

Princess Katie and Princess Sydney had much in common with Ann, and they too longed to be free of their titles. Okay, so they had nothing in common with Ann. They weren't princesses. They had no titles. And, quite frankly, if they had had titles, they definitely would not have gone around whining about the limitations of princesshood. In fact, they probably would've lived it up quite stupendously. Regardless of the estimable princesses they would have been, however, they were still commoners. Fortunately, they soon got over this fact and realized that Roman Holidays are fair game for all. After some thought, they rejoiced that a Roman Holiday would be much easier for them because they wouldn't have to break any rules or sneak out of any embassies while under the influence of narcotics (always a good thing to avoid, dear readers). With their spirits uplifted and their wills thus strengthened, they turned to each other and said with eerily synchronized spontaneity, "Rome, by all means Rome."

As stated above, Sydney and I began our altered Roman Holiday in a much simpler way than did Princess Ann. We took a train, and... that was it. Not very cinematic, but quite sensible and safe. We're always sensible and safe, you know. Upon our arrival, we considered napping on some nearby park benches... just in case some Joe-Bradley-esque reporter were to walk by and take pity on our poor, exhausted souls. However, we really weren't that sleepy. Also, we reached the conclusion that having a male stranger cart us off to his apartment during our REM cycles wouldn't be the best idea. See? I told you we are sensible and safe.

We decided that our altered Roman Holiday didn't need a Joe Bradley. Besides, his absence ensured that we were not stalked by a shady photographer. We hope. Despite the fact that there was no Joe Bradley in the picture, we proceeded to follow step one of our Altered Roman Holiday diagram.


Step 1: Visit Joe Bradley's apartment at Via Margutta, 51. (followed closely by Step 1.5: Refrain from appropriating Mr. Bradley's bed. Ahem, Princess Ann)

We then bravely continued with...

Step 2: In an act of aforementioned reckless abandon, remove large amounts of hair. Wait, can you plan reckless abandon? "Scheduled reckless abandon" just doesn't sound quite right. Okay, okay. The haircut was an act of reckless abandon for Ann. For us it was just living on the edge. With just the right amounts of safety and sensibility, of course.

By this time we were getting slightly hungry. So, we jumped eagerly into...

Step 3: Primly and delicately eat gelato on the Spanish Steps. I'm a little bit bitter that Princess Ann's particular step was occupied. It's somewhat difficult to look prim and delicate on the small steps. Nonetheless, we managed.

Step 4: Go to a road-side cafe, and drink something. Princess Ann ordered champagne. We stuck with coffee... always a better idea in the daytime. Side note: the "Rocca's" cafe mentioned in the movie no longer exists, nor does the Wall of Wishes (at least not in its entirety).

Step 5: Head to the Mouth of Truth, insert your hand in a hole containing who knows what, and hope there aren't any lies you've told and forgotten about. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

Step 6: Travel to Ponte Saint Angelo and find a barge. We found the Ponte Saint Angelo, but there were no dancing barges chilling in the Tiber River. Also, we didn't want to risk being whisked away by government agents. So, we passed on the dance party.

Step 7: Return to everyday princess life. Oh wait, we're not princesses.

Revised Step 7: Continue touring Rome. Stop occasionally to reflect on what a burden it would be to be a princess. Enjoy life as a commoner.