Even battened hatches are no match for THE PERFECT STORM. Your tiny ship is tossed from the sea and you from it...
You awake to find yourself aboard a submarine. A gaunt, black-bearded man is tending to you. "Greetings, surface worlder," he says. "I am the master of the melancholy deep... I am named for no man... I am Captain Nemo."
"I know," you reply."The 19th-century machinery and the Phantom of the Opera decor tipped me off."
"I'll have you know the Phantom of the Opera ripped me off, not the other way round," pouts Nemo. "Anyway, enought about my troubles. Can I offer you a ride anywhere?"
"This is my chance to visit Paul and Laura in Canada," you think. "But where are they?"
