Meg Cabot - Every Boy’s Got One

Although of course I’ve done it for her often enough, most recently Friday night when the entire art department took her out for a bachelorette party. For two people who are supposed to be eloping, Mark and Holly told an AWFUL lot of people beforehand.

!!!! On CNN it says a plane is being held at the San Francisco airport under suspicion that a passenger aboard it has a highly contagious virus that they’re worried will spread worldwide!!!!

You know what this means:

I need more snacks for the plane.

Seriously, those people have been on board that plane for TWO HOURS with no food service. If I go two hours without eating, I get that weird thing where I can’t see out of one eye. And Toblerone won’t do it. I need something with protein. Like smoked almonds. And maybe some cheese popcorn. Which I bet they don’t even have in Italy. I better go back to the duty free and stock up, just in case….

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To: Tara Samuels <tara.samuels@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Travel Services

Where is everybody? I’ve been calling for the past half hour, and nobody there is picking up. Does Travel get half days on Fridays through September, or something, while the rest of us slobs have to give them up on Labor Day?

I asked you guys to book this ticket a month ago, but I’m at the airport now and they claim I’m in coach, not business class.

In a middle seat . For as even-hour flight .

Freaking Frodo wouldn’t last for six hours in a seat that small. How is a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound man supposed to do it?

Someone had better pull some strings or you’re going to have one very unhappy journalist on your hands.

C. Langdon

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To: Dolly Vargas<dolly.vargas@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Last night

Thanks for last night. However, I think moving in together might be a little precipitous. And I don’t think your husband would really appreciate it.

Let’s just keep things casual for now, and see how things go. Okay? I’m off to some podunk part of Italy no one’s ever heard of because Levine has some idiot idea he’s going to get married there, but I’ll be in touch when I get back in a week.

C.

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To: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Tara Samuels <tara.samuels@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Travel Services

I’m SO sorry, Mr. Langdon, we were in a budget meeting, which is why no one picked up. I’ve been calling the airline ever since I got back, and they’re booked solid. I could get you in business class on another flight… but not until tomorrow. Would that be all right?

Again, I’m so sorry about the misunderstanding. I can’t imagine how you ended up in coach. We ALWAYS book you in business class, as you know. Except of course when the plane you’re taking is so small, there isn’t a business class. Which isn’t the case here. I can’t apologize enough, really. Could we upgrade you to a suite when you get to your hotel?

Tara

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To: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Dolly Vargas <dolly.vargas@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Last night

There you are! I’ve only left ten messages on your cell phone. How COULD you have snuck out like that this morning, without even leaving a note?

And Peter and I aren’t married , sweetie. We have an understanding—the same one you and I have.

And of course I wasn’t asking you to move in permanently. Just offering you the spare guest room until you find a place of your own. I know how brutal the New York real-estate market can be.

Not that you’ll have any problems, the way sales are going for Sweeping Sands . In fact, the penthouse across from mine just went up for sale, a steal at two million. Interested? I could speak to the co-op board on your behalf….

In any case, darling, call me when you get back from Mark’s little elopement.

XXXOOO

Dolly

Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

OK, I asked Cell Phone Guy to watch my stuff for a minute while I ran to buy snacks, and he was TOTALLY rude about it. He said, in this very snarky way, “I highly doubt anyone is going to steal your water , miss.”

!!!!!

Which wasn’t even what I was asking him to watch. My water, I mean. Clearly, I meant my BAG. I mean, the last thing I need is for the airport to blow up my stuff because I left it unattended.

Whatever. It’s just like Malcolm says. Some people just suck, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I should have known Cell Phone Guy was one of them. Especially the way he keeps banging at the keyboard of that Blackberry. He’s still at it. How can someone so anal retentive look so good in a pair of jeans? I don’t get it. I mean, evolutionarily speaking, his kind should have been wiped out a long time ago. Because who’d want to mate with someone with THAT kind of attitude?

OOOOOOH, I see Holly!!!! Holly and Mark are here, at last! YAY!

I wonder where Mark’s friend Cal is. The best man, I mean. We were all supposed to meet at the gate….

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To: Mark Levine <mark.levine@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Cal Langdon <cal.langdon@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Where are you?

I’m at the gate. I don’t see you. You didn’t take my advice and cancel the thing at the last minute, did you?

Forget it, you’re not the leave-em-at-the-altar type.

So. Nervous yet? I’ve got the flask, don’t worry. We’re going to need it, too, there’s a real nut job on this flight. Apparently she thinks there’s a possibility we might crash land in the Sahara.

Hurry up and get here, I want to kiss the bride—

Oh, there you are.

Cal

Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

Oh my God.

Cell Phone Guy is Cal.Cal Langdon , Mark’s best buddy since elementary school, the one who’s been traveling all around the world for the Journal , writing about social unrest and economic instability for the past ten years. The one with the new book that’s just out—the one he supposedly got this huge advance for.

I wish I were on that plane that’s stuck in the San Francisco airport instead of on this one. I would rather have a deadly virus than have to spend a minute more in the company of Cal Langdon, aka Cell Phone Guy, aka Mark Levine’s Best Friend.

Oh, but guess what? HE’S SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME. That’s what he was so mad about before. He was calling Travel Services at the Journal , trying to get them to change his seat so he could sit in business class, or at least on the aisle, and not in the middle, like he is now.

Ha ha. Ha ha, Cal In the Middle. Hope you like bumping your elbow into mine every five seconds, Mr. IHighly-Doubt-Anyone-Is-Going-To-Steal-Your-Water,-Miss. Because I am SO not giving up my aisle seat. No way.

And don’t expect me to share my water with you, either. OR my Toblerone. Or my cheese popcorn. I don’t care how long we’re stuck on this runway, or what kind of virus might get into the ventilation system. You’re getting nada from me, mister.

I’m not telling Holly how much I hate her husband’s best man, though. I don’t want to spoil this special time for her.

I am so not going to be able to give them this travel diary as a wedding gift. Oh well. It’s probably just as well, since my handwriting is barely legible, thanks to the Armrest Nazi next to me. Excuse me, Mr. I’m- So-Big-I-Need-To-Take-Up-Your-Space-Too. Could you please move your stupid hairy arm with the stupid waterproof watch that tells the altitude and the exact time on all seven continents which I know you so need, being such a fancy world traveler who knows so much about foreign policy and things a poor little cartoonist like me couldn’t even begin to understand?

I’ll tell you one thing: if this is a setup, Holly is dead. I mean, I know she doesn’t like Malcolm, but could she seriously, even for one second, entertain the idea that I might like Mister Nothing-Comes-Between- Me-And-My-Blackberry here? Please! He asked me what I do for a living (he was so just making conversation because Holly and Mark are seated right behind us, and he didn’t want to look like the Uptight Anal Retentive Control Freak he really is in front of them), and when I said I was a cartoonist, he was like, “You’re kidding.”

Totally deadpan. You’re kidding.

And get this: he’s never heard of Wondercat.

Never. Heard. Of. Wonder. Cat.

He has to be lying. He writes for the paper in which Wondercat was born.

And OK, he’s abroad all the time, and you can’t get the Journal everywhere. But doesn’t he watch television ? He may have been gallivanting all around the world for the past decade, but excuse me, he’s back now, promoting his stupid book. Hasn’t he seen Wondercat’s commercial for energy saving products on New York One? Everyone watches New York One, if only to check the temperature.