Catching Red Eyes

"ROWAN!!!!"
I woke up to my room mate screaming my name too early Saturday morning. I pulled the pillow over my head in a desperate attempt to cover her screaming.
"Rowan!! Oh my god, oh my god, I won! I won! I got VIP passes for the concert!", she continued screaming into my ear.
"Laurie, chill, please. I had a late night", I said, trying to plead with her.
"You always have a late night working on your papers. After editing three times, I think you're good.", Laurie said.
"It was actually for Marc. I had to copy edit the interview with the cast from Real World.", I explained.
"By copy edit, you mean write? I swear Marc should be fired and you replace him."
"He is the co-owner of the company. He isn't going to fire himself and I am grateful to have this opportunity."
"Whatever. Back to more important things! I won VIP passes for SlipKnot this weekend!!"
"Ah, very cool. Haven't you met them like 10 times already?"
"Its 12, Row, 12 times."
"Oh, so sorry,ha ha." I said, pushing back the covers to revel I had fallen asleep on top of papers and my MacBook. I switched the Mac on and opened up my email. It was littered with carbon copied emails from Marc and his business partner, George, to all their interns and assistants explaining events that needed to be covered that month. I looked for my name and it showed that I was going to London next Thursday on the red eye for unknown interview. I checked it again. London? Me? I was their youngest intern and most unexperienced for sure. I was finishing my last semester of college at NYU and up until now, have only been the Editor in Chief for my high school and college newspaper and interning at small papers here and there. I had landed this intern spot after the newspaper's faculty advisor pulled some strings for me and practically begged Marc to read my samples. After 3 agonizing weeks, Marc and George offered me a spot on their team. I was their bitch getting coffee, picking up dry cleaning, uploading endless hours of content onto their blog and once in awhile, if I was the last resort, go onsite interviewing. But now...
"Hey, Laur, I won't be home next Thursday or Friday so can you feed Sprinkle?"
"Sure, I'll feed the fish. Where ya going?"
"Apparently London."

Notes