Boom. It hits you. You’re hungover as shit and questioning every life decision you’ve ever made–specifically if watching the sun rise on a roof in Brooklyn really worth it (long answer, yes, short answer, you want to die). “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?” you ask yourself. Your mind flashes back to chasing Fireball shots with white wine from the bottle at 4 a.m. while listening to Matchbox Twenty. You feel like you’re going to vomit.
You muster up the energy to get some water and check your bag for the essentials: ID, credit cards, phone, cash–JK, no way you have any cash left if you stayed out until 7 a.m. It looks like you spent it on that empty bag of Sour Patch Kids.
You try and go to sleep, but the anxiety is biting. You truly understand the meaning of “I just can’t even.”
You just want your mom.
You start texting your best friend.
Teresa: I’m still awake.
Mel: I feel sad. I don’t know.
Teresa: Me too. I may or may not be crying.
Mel: I feel sick.
Teresa: Come over! I need someone to hold me.
Twenty minutes later, Mel and Teresa lie in Teresa’s bed, both dressed in clothes that would be embarrassing at the gym.
Teresa: I feel like I’m dying. Actually, it’s worse. I wouldn’t mind it if I accidentally died right now.
Mel: I feel like I have no real friends. Do people even like me?
Teresa: Shut up. Of course people like you. That’s not you saying that, that’s your hangover talking.
Mel: You know what this feels like? It feels like we were unicorns that just found out we have to live the rest of our lives as regular horses.
Teresa: I don’t want to be a regular horse. I want to be magical.
Mel: Last night was magical.
Teresa: It really was. It was so much fun. Why does fun always suck the next day?
Mel: I want a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel, sparkling water, Gatorade, and iced coffee.
Teresa: I want my mom.
Mel: My teeth hurt.
Teresa: You have any gum? Actually, never mind, I don’t think I can chew gum right now.
Mel: Do I need to apologize to anyone?
Teresa: I don’t think so. Wait. Let me think. No. Unless…
Teresa thinks about it.
Teresa: No, you don’t. Do I?
Mel: I don’t know. My neck is sore. Why is my neck sore?
Teresa: From dancing? I think you were dancing really hard when “Shout” came on at the bar.
Mel: “Shout”! That’s my favorite song.
Teresa: I know, you were telling everyone that at the bar. Where’d you get that fedora?
Mel: What fedora?
Teresa: At one point I looked over at you dancing and you were wearing some guy’s fedora. You looked really happy.
Mel: I was!
Mel: Do people like me?
Teresa: Yes! People like you! I’m so sad.
Mel: Shit. I just remembered that I told Pat I’d make out with him and then forgot to. Noooooo.
Teresa: Next weekend?