"You know that song? On that show? With the rich kids? CALIFORNIA!!!! CALIFORNIA!!! HERE I COOOOOOOOOOME!" Fern sang shrilly.

"Control your singing," Cyn chided, "Now, if we're going to take Boris to San Francisco, we need to pack a few things, and hop on our brooms."

"A Trans-Atlantic broom flight? Are you freakin' nuts? Don't you know about the chaffing? My poor Great-Uncle Gil flew on a broom over the Atlantic, never had kids!"

"Fern, you're muggle-born."

"Ok, maybe it wasn't my uncle. But it was someone's uncle!”

Cyn watched as Fern went about the dorms, stuffing random items into a large duffle bag. This simply was not going to do. "Fern, we're riding brooms! You can't pack that heavily! Just pack a couple sets of robes and a few muggle outfits!"

"But what about the whole ride to San Francisco," Fern asked.

"Well, we can't fly the whole way. We'll figure out some sort of muggle transport once we reach New York. Plus, maybe, if you're especially good, we can do some shopping when we get there."

"OOOH SHOPPING!" Fern squealed, and dumped everything out of her duffle bag except a pair of clean underwear, and her favorite magazine 'Manly Men'.

Cyn packed as well, and they both helped Boris put on miniaturized flight goggles. Prepared, they hopped off there brooms, and flew off.

Because the girls hadn't had the foresight to realize that their brooms and gear were made for quidditch and not distance flying, they soon grew uncomfortable. Even the fancy cushioning charms they'd manipulated an exceptionally smart sixth year into placing on their brooms didn't help after a while. Unfortunately, they came to this realization after they were well out over the Atlantic. There was simply nothing to be done. So they endured what they could, stuffing their luggage between them and their broomsticks.

"There's a fire in my loins!" Fern moaned.

"Over-share!" Cyn complained, but she squirmed as well.

Boris, who was lucky enough to have a spot on Fern's shoulder, only feared that he would fall off and be drowned in the ocean below. He clung on for dear life, "Please, girls. I'm sure it won't be too long."

"Too long? TOO LONG? Every minute is like an hour! I haven't been this uncomfortable since I hit on that gay dude at Joe's Crab Shack," Fern grumbled.

It wasn't five minutes later that Cyn yelled, "Look! Lights! It's America!" Fern perked up a bit, which caused her to wince in pain and immediately regret it. They flew for a bit longer, before they landed on Liberty Island.

"Let's wait here for the ferry, then we can hop on to get to the city. We can move on from there," Cyn planned out loud. Everyone was happy for a bit of a nap, so they lounged on the lawn beneath the great Lady and awaited the first tourists of the morning.

The last words out of her mouth before she fell into a deep slumber were, "Fern, please don't feed the tourists. Or hurt them too badly.”

Fern was too hyper to sleep, so as she let Boris and Cyn bed down together like homeless people, she mingled amongst the crowd. She took in a few of the sights: guys in tight t-shirts, guys in sunglasses, guys in jeans, and then she decided she needed something else to occupy her. Suddenly she had a thought.

Sidling up to a particularly well-dressed tourist, she quickly flitted into his pocket, and removed his wallet. She was rewarded with a wad full of cash and a platinum credit card. Running back to Cyn and Boris, she shook them, "Hey, guys wake up. I have just officially solved all our problems." She showed Cyn the wallet.

"But that's stealing!" Cyn protested.

"It's not stealing if it's from rich people!" Fern retorted.

"You have some very twisted logic. And morals for that matter, Fern," Cyn chided.

"Oh well though," Cyn thought to herself, "it does solve many of our problems." Cyn had been trying to think of a way to get over three thousand miles away for hours and the best she had come up with, between their spare sum of money and the fact that it was all wizard's money, was to walk or hitchhike. How interesting that would be... two oddly-dressed girls with a talking sock. Not strange at all. So she agreed to go along with this. They jumped onto the next ferry and headed towards Manhattan. First stop: 5th Avenue.

"I get seasick," Fern said," Really, really seasick."

"It's okay we'll be there in a little while."

"You don't understand...seasick!!!!”

Cyn and Boris endured Fern's whining for a couple more minutes before they arrived at the main land. Cyn decided to check out Saks. She'd always heard about that store, so she wanted to see what it was all about. They got on the nearest subway and made their way to 5th Ave.

Cyn had to constantly restrain Fern to fend off most of the suspicious looks, but then she realized: This was the NYC Subway. They were used to this stuff. They arrived at the store relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, Fern being Fern, she had to go to the bathroom. They made their way through the main floor, full of trees that went through the ceiling. They went up to the fourth floor to the bathrooms, where Fern was instantly in play land.

"OH MY FREAKING ALLAH! THEY HAVE LOTIONS AND OINTMENTS AND THESE LITTLE FUNNY THINGS WITH STRINGS. Wow! Cyn, come here! I found sausage holders!"

"Um, I don't think those are sausage holders Fern."

"What? NO! Clearly they are here to preserve sausages with! Is there a deli near here?"

"No, wait...Fern, don't wear those like ear rings!"

"Why not?"

"Because...that's not what they're for. I'll explain when you hit puberty."

Fern merely nodded and looked at all of the other things they had. She made it her personal duty to try out every powder, lotion, and good-smelling thing that had ever been produced while Cyn just hid her face in embarrassment as a few harassed-looking ladies tried to use the restroom in peace.

“Fern! Don't put that cream there!! It doesn't go there!…HEY! Why should that smell like 'Eau de Toilette'?...NO, NO, NO! Don't eat that!"

This bathroom thing was seriously stressing Cyn out. She got hives at the thought of what Boris was up to in the men's room. She detached Fern from the toiletries and gathered up Boris, who now smelled suspiciously like musky peaches, and headed downstairs to get some clothes for them all.

They quickly determined that these clothes were entirely over-priced and definitely not their style. Well, except for some shoes that Fern just had to have. They found some funky little stores a few blocks away and packed up for their journey. The next step was transportation.

"So," Cyn asked as Fern twirled around a few times in her new clothes (a few people threw coins at her, mistaking her for a homeless person), "How exactly are we getting to San Francisco?"

"Oh, that's easy," Fern said, "We just call a limo service, tell them Boris is famous. Make them drive us, and pay with the credit card."

"Ok," Cyn said, "Let's call on that pay phone."

"Payphones? You've got to be kidding me! People like go to the restroom in payphones. Lord knows I do. Here I just stole this cell from that girl over there."

Cyn rolled her eyes disapprovingly as Fern dialed for information and got connected to a limousine service.

"New York Limousine Service," a pleasant voice asked, "How may I help you?"

"Yes? I'm the secretary for Sir Boris the Russian Czar," Fern giggled, in a thick incoherent accent.

"Czar? I thought the Russia didn't have czars anymore."

“Well, yes. See, they got tired of communism, they were looking for a change."

"Oh, erm...how may I help you?"

"Sir Boris would like to procure a limousine, vis a vis, yadda yadda yadda, he wants to taketh it to San Francisco."

"Oh! I see, where would he like to be picked up?"

"Um, you know that place, where they have like flashing signs and Diane Sawyer?"

"Times Square?"

"Yeah, Sir Boris and his two incredibly attractive female escorts would like to be picked up at Times Square in...oh, say 30 minutes!"

"Excellent, how would you like to pay for this."

"Oh, It pays to Discover baby," Fern trilled in her fake accent, as she rattled off the credit card number.

Fern finally hung up, did a little dance--which warranted a few more coins from passing strangers, and the group headed off towards Times Square. They stopped in a couple tourist shops and bought t-shirts at the rock-bottom price of 10 for $10. They were all fairly low-quality, but who could pass up the opportunity to own an “I <3 NY” shirt? Or a shirt that said "I'm with stupid...IN NEW YORK!"

Finally, they hit Times Square. Fern waited impatiently, tapping her feet, and nibbling her fingernails. The limo pulled up and she motioned to the driver. "You're Sir Boris?"

"No!" Fern protested, "We're his lovely female escorts. Sir Boris is a midget-- we stuffed him in our duffle bags, he's into that kind of stuff."

The limo driver just eyed them warily and took their things. Boris was actually safely hidden in Cyn's pocket as they all piled into the limo, ready to ride off.

"GOOD BYE NEW YORK!" Fern screamed out of the sun roof, and then, "Hey, Cyn. Why do they call it the big apple?"

"I dunno. "

"I like apples...they taste like crabs."

“Whatever you say, Fern. Driver, to San Francisco, please!”

“WHAT?!?!” shouted the surprised driver as they pulled into traffic.

Join us next edition as Boris makes his way across America...

Teaser for next month: Boris gets kidnapped by rednecks that Fern just happens to be related to "EVERYONE'S YOUR COUSIN IN ARKANSAS!"