Meanwhile, Caroline and Señor Carlos had long since passed that leg of the journey. They had hopped in an awaiting submarine at the end of the tunnel. The cabin was adorned with tacky little souvenirs from tacky little touristy places. The Elizabethan queen cackled as the engine ignited but in her haste to begin the descent she applied far too much force to the throttle and the cheap thing ripped off.
"Gah! Good Carlos, help!" she cried.
But to no avail, for, as Carlos put it, "I take siesta now."