Chapter 2: Traveling in Style

"So, Ponds, the first order of business is clothes," declared the Doctor as they entered the TARDIS. He walked up to the console, turned and posed. "I've got my Stetson, so I'm ready!"

"No you're not," replied Rory as he looked the Doctor over. "Not if you're going to be wearing that hat."

The Doctor was taken aback. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked.

"For a cowboy, the two most important clothing items are his hat and his boots," Rory said confidently. "Those shoes simply won't do."

Amy was just as surprised as the Doctor. "And when did you become an expert on American cowboy attire?" she asked.

"When you spend two thousand years guarding the Pandorica, you learn a few things," Rory said to them both. "If you really want to go with the Western look, lose the bow tie and wear a bolo tie instead."

The Doctor defensively fiddled with his bow tie. "But bow ties are cool," he objected.

"Not in Texas," said Rory. "But still, a bolo is optional. The boots are a must. Do you have American cowboy boots? The more expensive or exotic looking, the better."

"Let's find out, shall we?" exclaimed the Doctor. He motioned for Amy and Rory to follow as he headed across the console room, down the hall towards the dressing rooms.

"What's a bolo tie?" Amy quietly asked Rory as they walked along behind the Doctor.

"A stringy looking thing with a flashy clasp where the knot of a proper tie should be," replied Rory, equally quiet. "I'm sorry I mentioned it now. If you thought a bow tie is a cry for help, I expect you'll think a bolo tie is a cult suicide pact."

"Oh Lord…" Amy murmured.

"Right! Here we are," said the Doctor as he suddenly turned left into a room, Amy and Rory following behind.

The room was filled with nothing but shoes—all kinds and styles of shoes. Simple looking sandals that would not have been out of place thousands of years ago, sneakers, moccasins, ballet shoes, tap dance shoes, oxfords, derbies, high heels, pumps, wingtips, boots of all kinds, and even some high-tech looking footwear covered in vibrantly colored sponsorship advertising that was constantly in motion.

The Doctor noticed Amy and Rory staring at the bright high-tech shoes. "From your future," he commented. "Though perhaps not as far in the future as you might think. And in the time period when I picked those up, that was considered to be conservative stuff only a grandmother would wear."

The Doctor moved farther into the room, searching. "Ah ha! Is this the sort of thing you mean, Rory?"

Rory moved to see where the Doctor was pointing. There were two rows of western boots, ranging from no nonsense work boots to fancy dress boots that would never have a speck of mud on them.

"Yes, these dress boots are good. Just the sort of thing you need." Rory reached out and picked up a pair. "Look at this! I think these are rattlesnake skin boots. Now we're talking!"

"Thank you, Rory," said the Doctor, taking the boots. "Now let's get you two sorted."

The Doctor lead the way to another room, this one filled with both men's and women's clothing.

"Are you being served?" the Doctor asked in a haughty voice. "Menswear this way; ladies that way."

Amy and Rory gave the Doctor a blank look.

"Nothing?" said the Doctor as his attempted joke fell flat. "Have neither of you been to Harrod's?" he said with a bemused expression.

"Uh, getting back to the clothes, I already have something in mind," said Rory. "Basically, all I need to do is dress the same way I did when we were in 1969, when I had the horn-rimmed glasses, slicked back hair, and all that. What was rocket scientist nerdy by 1969 was a common look in 1961. Amy will be a bit more of a challenge, I think. Women's style changes faster."

"Not that hard," said the Doctor, looking over Amy. "All we have to do is dress her like Jacqueline Kennedy."

"Hello? I'm standing right here!" said Amy, miffed at Rory and the Doctor.

"Come on," Rory said gently. "I think I have a good idea what's needed. A bit of privacy please, Doctor?"

"That's all right, I'm good," replied the Doctor.

Amy and Rory looked at the Doctor expectantly.

"Oh! You want me to leave?" said the Doctor, comprehension dawning on his face.

"Yes please," Amy and Rory said simultaneously. The Doctor quietly slipped out of the room.

A few minutes later, Rory stepped out. "You can come in now, Doctor," he called.

As the Doctor re-entered the room, Rory asked with a big grin on his face, "What do you think?"

Amy was wearing a deceptively simple sleeveless white and emerald green floral dress offsetting her red hair. The dress came down to just below her knees with nylon stockings underneath. A wide, matching green belt was around her waist. Accompanying this was a matching green pillbox hat perched on her head, thin white gloves covered her hands, a slim white purse, and white open-toe shoes with one inch heels.

"Are you sure this is right?" Amy asked as she looked at her gloves and purse, and down at her shoes.

"In 1961? Absolutely! And I must say, you look smashing!" said the Doctor, pleased with the transformation.

Amy stared at the snakeskin boots the Doctor was now wearing, and then glanced up. "What in God's name is that thing around your neck?" she asked.

"Oh this?" the Doctor asked innocently. "This is a bolo tie. What do you think?"

"How can that be called a tie? It's a gaudy piece of costume jewelry with two long rat tails hanging down. And I thought bow ties were bad…."

"Different people, different customs," the Doctor admonished. "I won't be the only man wearing a bolo tie you know."

"Not Rory!" said Amy, looking at Rory with alarm.

"No, not Rory," said Rory. "I'm not trying to be a cowboy. We'll just be a British couple invited to the party." He smiled at Amy. "It will be fun."

Amy smiled back, relieved. "Well, let's get this party rocking!"

"Rock and Roll," corrected the Doctor. "Rock isn't quite there yet."

"Whatever," Amy said as they began to walk back to the console room.

"Say, if we're going to a party hosted by none other than the Vice President of the United States, why not go all the way? Why aren't we going to President Kennedy's party?"

"Two reasons really," replied the Doctor. "One: the President's party is a relatively low-key affair in Massachusetts, not a Texas-sized barbecue, and it would be harder to blend in. Two: Marilyn Monroe will be at the President's party, and I'd just as soon not run into her at the moment."

Amy and Rory gave each other a knowing look. As they walked, Amy began to hum the "Wedding March," quietly at first, then with increasing volume. Rory soon joined in, and it quickly went from humming to an out loud "La, da da da – la, da da da – la da da daaa da da da da da da…" as they marched along in time.

"All right! All right! That's not funny!" said the Doctor. "I can't help it if Marilyn Monroe thought I was going to marry her!"

Both Amy and Rory burst out laughing as they entered the control room.

The Doctor began working his way around the console, setting dials, typing briefly on the keyboard, flipping switches, and checking the monitor.

"Right then!" he said. "Relatively short trip. July fourth, 1961, here we come!"

With that, he pulled a lever and the TARDIS took off with a lurch that sent Rory and Amy scrambling to hang on. Amy let out a whoop and grinned at Rory.

After a minute, the TARDIS landed with its familiar scraping, moaning sound. The Doctor checked his monitor, and frowned.

"We are definitely in 4 July 1961, but we're a bit early—perhaps 2:00 AM local time. And that's not right…." He trailed off.

"Uh, Doctor," said Rory. "Is it supposed to do that?"

"Is what supposed to do what?" asked the Doctor, still looking at the monitor.

"The doors to the TARDIS. Are they supposed to do that?" Rory asked again, pointing.

Instead of the normal police box blue double doors, there was now a somewhat shorter, single narrow door seemingly made of wood with an oak finish.

"What?" said the Doctor. He stepped away from the console and walked up to the door.

"What!" He opened the door, peeked out, then stepped out for a quick look around. He quickly came back in, shutting the door behind him.

"Oh you sexy thing!" the Doctor said as he walked up to the console while shaking his finger. "You've been holding out on me!"

"Doctor? What's going on?" asked Amy.

"It's the chameleon circuit! Ordinarily, a TARDIS is meant to always blend in with its environment so that it's not noticed – and that's in addition to the perception filter. But a long time ago, this TARDIS got stuck looking like a police call box, and it's been that way ever since. I did try to repair it once, but it didn't last."

The Doctor shook his head while smiling, talking to the TARDIS, a distinct tone of affection in his voice.

"All this time! All this time, you could have changed anytime you wanted! But you wanted to be a police call box, didn't you? You naughty, naughty girl!"

"But we're somewhere in Texas, yeah?" asked Amy.

"Didn't I say? No, we're not in Texas. We're on board a ship by the look of things. Too small a space for the TARDIS to appear as a police call box, so the old girl simply blended in as she's meant to do. From the outside, the TARDIS looks like just another cabin door along a narrow ship's corridor."

"And it is 1961, right?" asked Rory.

"Oh yes! It's definitely 4 July 1961, so our clothes shouldn't be out of character. Shall we have a look around?"

"Yes, let's," responded Amy. As a group, they all headed for the door, and stepped out one at a time.

An alarm klaxon was sounding.

"That's odd," said the Doctor. "It was quiet when I stepped out the first time."

"Doctor," said Rory warningly. "This doesn't look like a cruise ship. Look at all the exposed pipes and whatnot. This has military look."

"I agree," said the Doctor with a smile. "What else do you observe?"

From down the corridor they could hear voices calling out. "Compartment Five – manned and ready! Compartment Six – manned and ready!"

Rory looked around. "This hallway… I mean, corridor really. It's hardly wider than my shoulders, and at that end of the corridor is a pressure hatch. I think we're in a submarine!"

"Exactly! A submarine!" said the Doctor excitedly. He bounced on the balls of his feet and smiled. "This is new!"

The voices down the corridor continued.

"All compartments report manned and ready for live missile firing, Comrade Captain!"
"Maintain course, speed and depth."
"Maintaining course, speed and depth. Course two-nine-zero. Speed six knots. Depth one hundred meters. Bow planes zero degrees."
"Comrade Captain! We have received confirmation from Moscow authorizing release of nuclear missiles!"

Amy and Rory looked at each other in horror.

"That can't be right!" Rory exclaimed. "There were never any missile attacks in 1961, or at any time by anyone!"

"That we know of, you mean," replied Amy, fighting down a panic attack.

"If there had been a nuclear missile strike in the 1960's, I'm pretty sure we'd know!" Rory said heatedly. "If anyone was left alive to know, that is!"

The voices carried on.

"On my mark…. Three, two, one, mark! Firing controls active."
"Number one hatch open."
"Lock number one missile to primary target."
"Number one missile fueling in progress."

Amy shook her head. "Doctor! What are we going to do!" she cried. "We can't allow this ship to launch a nuclear missile!"

The Doctor seemed rooted on the spot, listening intently to the activity down the corridor. "This can't be right. Something is off – I'm sure of it!"

"All hands standby for emergency dive after launch."
"Number one missile fueled and elevated to launch position."
"Ready for firing sequence, Comrade Captain."
"Launch number one missile!"
"Time to launch: fifteen seconds… fourteen… thirteen… twelve…"

"Doctor!"