But whatever! They’ll get over it.
Anyway, that’s what makes your elopement so special.
And I plan to record every detail of that special-ness, starting now, before we even get on the plane. Before I even meet you guys at the gate. Which, by the way, where ARE you, anyway? I mean, we were supposed to get here three hours before our departure time. You know that, don’t you? I mean, it says that right on the ticket.For international travel, please arrive no later than three hours prior to departure time.
So. Where are you guys?
I suppose I could email you on my new BLACKBERRY, but as you keep reminding me, Holly, it’s for WORK PURPOSES ONLY, which is the only reason the IT guys let you have them (thanks for mine, by the way. I mean, it’s nice of Tim and those guys to think of me, even though I don’t exactly work there anymore).
God, I hope nothing happened to you. I mean, on the way. People drive like maniacs on the expressway.
Wait—you didn’t change your minds, did you? About getting married? You can’t. That would be awful! Just AWFUL! I mean, you two are so perfect for each other… not to mention, it would be totally unfair to cancel on me. My first trip to Europe, and my travel companions ditch me? As it is, I can’t even believe I’m really doing it. Why did I wait so long? Who turns thirty without having been outside the continental United States at least once in her life? No Paris with French class in the 11th grade. No “Cabo” for Spring Break in college. What’s wrong with me, anyway? Why am I such a non-transcontinental flying freak?
And okay, seriously, what is with the guy with the cell phone over there? I mean, he’s cute and everything. But why is he yelling? We’re going to Italy, dude. Italy! So chill.
Okay, ignore the guy on the cell phone. IGNORE THE GUY ON THE CELL PHONE. I can’t believe I’m wasting the first pages of your travel diary on him. Who cares about him? I’M GOING TO EUROPE!