When the Queen visits

By Erika Engel

In the middle of lumbering towers of concrete and glass, in a Hilton Hotel, I'm waiting for a bus that will take me to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh.
This is the best and most terrifying Monday of my year.
I'm covering the Duke of Edinburgh awards in Toronto, where the His Royal Highness, himself, is scheduled to present them. Following that presentation, Her Majesty and His Royal Highness will be dining with the Prime Minister, at which time, I may catch a lucky glimpse of the Queen.
I arrived four hours early. I knew I'd be early, but I had to consider every delay imaginable (and unimaginable). Wild horses weren't going to keep me from this assignment.
In fact, I made sure to keep a horse trainer on standby in case of a pack of wild horses on the Gardiner Expressway.
Before you start thinking, "wow, she's really dedicated to her job," I have to tell you that this type of anxious preparation is not an everyday thing. I'm sure if it was, I'd need a pacemaker and a bottomless prescription for some kind of chill pill.
This nauseatingly excessive - yes, compulsive - behaviour is reserved for only two special occasions.
Firstly, when my mother comes to visit.
The preparations take on a different role, one more active than a nervous hand wringing and 15 minute interval mirror checks. Essentially, the obsessive behaviour is directed at any spec of anything unclean in the house.
Secondly, in the event of a royal visit.
Believe me when I say, I thought this was more an obsession on paper than in reality. An "incase the Queen comes" clause is purely theoretical.
That's why, when it happens, every other never-gonna-happen situation is on the table and staring directly at you with mischief in its eyes and an evil plan behind its smirk. Step aside Murphy's Law; it's time for When-Hell-Freezes-Over.
Ladies, I hope you can sympathize, but this morning I had to ask myself what I was going to wear today when I went to see the Queen.
You can imagine my stress.
I'm waiting for that bus. Most of the hurdles are cleared - I have a bright yellow press pass around my neck - and every butterfly that made me nauseous with anxiety before is fluttering wildly in anticipation.
I'm excited.