Getting drunk on a Monday probably isn't very responsible. No one does it, right? No one would get drunk out of their mind on a Monday, right? Explain to me, then, why I am currently holding back my friend's hair as she pukes into a toilet bowl.
~That morning~
"It's going to be wonderful, I promise," whined Dimona. I shook my head.
"Di, I told you. I'm not letting you have a shotgun wedding two days after you met the guy! Are you insane?!"
"No, but I am head over heels," she sighed. "You wouldn't get it, Connie, you simply wouldn't! It was love at first sight, he-"
"There's no such thing as love at first sight." I grouched. "How ridiculous! No way am I letting you get married. Your mother told me to keep you out of trouble. What would she say if she heard you now!"
"Oh, but Mom's no fun. Come on, Connie, you know all about no-fun parents. Yours named you Constance, for goodness' sake!"
"Constance is a very practical name that suits me well. I like it."
"Yes, but it isn't fun! Connie," she whined. "I don't want a boring name, or a boring life. I want excitement!"
"That's all very well until you make a terrible, expensive mistake. Don't you have a fiancé?"
"Yes, but Justin's too boring to be here!"
"No, he just has a job. He's actually very fun. Remember when he took you skydiving?"
"That was fun, yes," she conceded. "If you won't let me get married, how about we see the city?"
"Well, I suppose you're only in London for so long. Alright."
"Yes! Let's go!" She grabbed my arm and rushed us out of the hotel room.
"Di, our bags!" I shouted.
"Oh yes, our things. I almost forgot." She laughed. "Just grab a light backpack, Connie. We're going to have a lot of fun!" I rushed back into the room and grabbed a backpack I had already prepared. I knew something like this would happen sooner or later. I rushed back out immediately afterwards, but Dimona was already gone. I had been in the room for under thirty seconds!
"Di!" I shouted. "Di, this is madness." Nothing happened. Oh God.
I whipped out my phone and checked the 'Find my Friend' app. Di had uninstalled it. I called her to see if she was nearby, and the ring came from inside the room next to mine. I groaned. She had left her phone in her room!
I pressed the button for the elevator - or lift, as they call it in England - and was relieved when one came right away.
"Dammit, Di." I muttered, angrily wracking my brains to figure out where she might've gone. I groaned when I realised. She had gone to that man's hotel to ask him to marry her! Where did she say he was staying? Ah yes, the Purple Butterfly. Room 312.
I ran out of the hotel as soon as the elevator reached ground. According to Google Maps (which I had checked in the elevator), it was a five minute walk away. I raced around the streets as best I could in the heavy London traffic. Finally, I reached the hotel. I raced up to the desk and asked, in between pants:
"Has a young American lady in a white lace dress ran in here?"
"Yes," said the puzzled man behind the desk.
"Was she here to see a Mr. David Angelo?"
"Yes."
"Room 312?"
"Yes. Listen, are you a friend of Mr. Angelo?"
"I'm a friend of his friend."
"Do you need the lift pass, then?"
"Yes please." He slid it over to me.
"Have it back quickly, please."
"Of course." I ran over to the lift and pressed the button. It came down after about a minute. I got in, put the card in, and pressed the button for the third floor. After what seemed like forever but was only a minute, the elevator reached the third floor. I rushed out and to room 312, rapping quickly on the door.
"Yes," said a young man, answering the door. I had to hand it to Di, she had a knack for finding all the pretty boys.
"I'm Dimona's friend. She has to come back with me to get her medication." I lied.
"No need to lie. Mona, love, your friend's here to take you wedding dress shopping." I stared at him, flabbergasted.
"You-she-fiancé," I spluttered.
"Oh, I know," he said smoothly. "I know all about her ex fiancé. Mona, do come to the door, sweetheart."
"Di! Get out here now!" I yelled angrily.
"Now, now, yelling isn't very nice." He chastised me.
"Shut up you patronizing little-"
"Connie!" Dimona cried, bursting out the door and embracing me. "Thank goodness you're here! Are you ready to go shopping?"
"Di, I'm calling your Mom, your Dad, and your fiancé. We're sorting this mess out now."
"Fiancé? You told me it was over!" David slammed the door.
"Look what you've done!" Di cried, running to the elevator and getting in.
"Wait, Di-" I started, but she was already gone.
~Five hours later~
Five hours had gone by, and still no sign of Di. The sun had set and I was exhausted. I had checked everywhere except for one last place. The Hog's Trotter bar. I trudged inside, and, to my amazement, Di sat at the bar, chatting with a young man, drunk out of her mind.
"Di!" I cried, rushing up to her. "Di, I've been looking for you everywhere. Come on, let's g-" I didn't get to finish before she threw up all over me. I nearly threw up myself at the sight of her puke.
"Sorry," she said weakly.
"The hotel's only a block away," I said, trying to be reassuring. Well, as soon as I had hauled my drunk best friend and my exhausted, puke covered self back to the room, she darted into the bathroom and was violently sick.
And that's how I ended up holding back Di's hair as she puked into the toilet. On a Monday. After she had ruined my new red dress.
