I mean, WE’RE going to Europe.

I think. If you two aren’t lying in the twisted wreckage of your taxi to the airport on the Long Island Expressway.

Let’s just assume you were running a little late this morning and that you aren’t dead.

Thank God you two are making me do this. You and Mark, I mean, Holly. I’m finally crossing the Atlantic, and for what better REASON? God, it’s so romantic—

(Oh, wait, that’s the same guy who was in front of me at the duty free! The one who was rolling his eyes because I bought all those bottles of Aquafina. Obviously he hasn’t read this month’s Shape . They say air travel is very dehydrating, and that you should drink half your body weight in water during the course of your flight if you want to avoid jet lag.)

And okay, they have water on the plane and all, but is it good water? I mean, as good as Aquafina? Probably not. I saw this thing on Ask Asa on Channel 4 where they sent the water from a plane to a lab and it was filled with all these microbes! And okay, it was the water from the tap in the plane bathroom, and no one would really drink that, but still.

Not that MY mom and dad wouldn’t kill me if I did what you’re doing, Holly. Elope, I mean. And to ITALY, of all places.

But it’s just so totally you, Holly. God, you’re lucky. Mark is so… grounded. And Mark, I know I give you a hard time about being such a sci-fi geek and all, but seriously, if I could meet a guy as—

(Oh my God! Cell Phone Guy just practically threw his phone at one of those little carts with the old people in it! The one taking them to their gate! And just because the guy driving it made that backing-up-truck sound to warn him he was in the way. God, what’s go this panties in such a bunch? Although he hardly looks like a panty-wearing type of guy. Jockeys, more likely. Or maybe boxers.