Every Boy's Got Oneby Meg Cabot
Cartoonist Jane Harris is delighted by the prospect of her first-ever trip to Europe. But it's hate at first sight for Jane and Cal Langdon, and neither is too happy at the prospect of sharing a villa with one another for a week—not even in the beautiful and picturesque Marches countryside. But when Holly and Mark's wedding plans hit a major snag that only… See more details below
Cartoonist Jane Harris is delighted by the prospect of her first-ever trip to Europe. But it's hate at first sight for Jane and Cal Langdon, and neither is too happy at the prospect of sharing a villa with one another for a week—not even in the beautiful and picturesque Marches countryside. But when Holly and Mark's wedding plans hit a major snag that only Jane and Cal can repair, the two find themselves having to put aside their mutual dislike for one another in order to get their best friends on the road to wedded bliss—and end up on a road themselves ... one neither of them ever expected.
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Travel Diary of
Holly Caputo and Mark Levine
On Their Elopement
Composed by Jane Harris, Witness
aka Maid of Honor
aka Holly's best friend since first grade and
roommate since freshman year at
Parsons School of Design
Dear Holly and Mark,
I know neither one of you would bother to keep a record of your elopement, so I've decided to do it for you! This way, when you're approaching your twentieth anniversary and your oldest kid has just wrecked the Volvo and your youngest has just come home from her cushy Westchester private school with head lice and the dog's thrown up all over the living room rug and, Holly, you're asking yourself why you ever moved out of the righteous East Village pad we shared for so long, and, Mark, you're wishing you'd stayed in resident housing down at St. Vincents, you can open this diary and go, "Oh, so THAT's why we got married."
Because you two are the grooviest couple I know, and totally belong together, and I think eloping to Italy is a BRILLIANT idea, even if you did steal it from Kate Mackenzie in Human Resources.
The eloping part, I mean. Not the Italy part.
But she HAD to elope. I mean, with in-laws like hers? What CHOICE did she have?
But you two are doing it for the pure romance of the thing -- not because you HAVE to, because both your families are perfectly respectable.
Well, I guess there is that teensy religion thing with your moms.
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 nontranscontinental 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!
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 got his panties in such a bunch? Although he hardly looks like a panty-wearing type of guy. Jockeys, more likely. Or maybe boxers ...
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