We’re giggling as we fall into a taxi outside the hotel, and the beginnings of drunkenness start to fade, turning instead into a state of blissed-out happiness that I haven’t felt since I arrived here.
The driver is infected with our laughter and blurts out random names of rock stars as he drives us through the endless streets, horns honking around us. Bicycles weave by us, as our driver calls out ‘Jon Bon Jovi’ and ‘Bruce Springsteen guitar’, and starts to sing the chorus of ‘Born to Run’ in heavily accented English, and Carrie waving a hand in front of her face, mouthing, ‘I can’t breathe,’ which only makes us laugh more.
Carrie’s laughter has turned into hiccups by the time we reach the entrance. A huge, concrete block of a place, with the usual Hard Rock Cafe logo and various memorabilia adorning the walls as we head up the steps.
A grinning waitress leads us to a table, and before I can even look at the menu, Carrie says, ‘Two Long Island Iced Teas.’
The waitress does a little bow then scurries off, still grinning.
‘Oh, God,’ I say, fanning myself with the menu. ‘I think I might need a Coke or something—’
‘Shut. Up. You’re not going soft on me already are you, V?’ She laughs again. ‘See what I did there? Soft?’
I roll my eyes, but she doesn’t see because she’s picked up the menu and is studying it intently as if she’s reading the instructions for the most difficult exam she’s ever taken, and is determined not to fail. Her face is scrunched in a cute approximation of drunken concentration, and it makes me happy. And she called me ‘V’, which makes me happier still. We’ve only known each other for a few hours and she already has a pet name for me. After my earlier despair, it seems like the planets may have collided at just the right time after all.
The waitress returns with the drinks and places them on the table on top of two small black napkins. ‘Are you ready to order? Do you need help with menu? The Local Legendary burger is really good—’
‘Yep, two of them please,’ Carrie says, snapping the menu shut. I haven’t even had a chance to look yet, but I don’t really care what I eat. I’m just glad to be here with this vibrant, buzzing ball of energy that I’ve stumbled upon.
She lifts her drink. ‘Cheers,’ she says. ‘To new friends and new adventures.’
We chink glasses, and I take a sip. Carrie downs half of hers in one. The waitress is still gathering up the menus, tidying up the table, and I grab her arm, gently. ‘Could we have a jug of water too, please?’
‘Of course!’ She grins at me and scurries off.
Carrie rolls her eyes. ‘You trying to stop me getting drunk?’
‘No, of course not…’ I pause, worrying now that I’ve upset her. ‘I just need a drink of water or I’m not sure I’m going to get through this cocktail. I’m a bit of a lightweight. What’s in it?’
She laughs. ‘Oh my God, you mean you didn’t go out underage drinking in places like this and order the cocktail with the most alcohol you could find, cos you could only afford one?’
I shake my head. ‘I didn’t really do anything like that. There was nothing like this near where I grew up.’
‘Me and Laura used to go up to this American diner place on the High Street … you know, The Royal Mile? That road that all the tourists love because it links Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Palace, and it’s full of tacky tartan, fudge and bagpipers?’ She laughs again, and takes a sip of her drink. ‘It was called the Filling Station. When I first heard of it I thought it was a garage. Anyway, it was a great place for underagers. I think they thought we wouldn’t stay too long, so they could get away with it. Saying that, most of the bars around The Grassmarket and The Cowgate let us in too. Starting the night with one of these was our wee tradition.’
I take a sip, and it’s actually quite nice. Sweet and sour, but with a definite kick. I feel the warmth hit my stomach, and I let myself relax again. I’m not that much of a lightweight. Far from it. I’m just trying to keep my wits about me so I don’t blow it with my new potential friend.
The water arrives, and then the burgers, and we don’t talk for a while as we eat. Carrie picks up the burger and squashes it together as much as she can, opening her mouth and taking a huge bite. Sauce dribbles down her chin, and she wipes it away quickly with a napkin before taking another bite. She is devouring it, as if she hasn’t eaten for days – whereas I have removed the salad and the bacon, and have cut the burger in half, nibbling on it. I feel self-conscious as I eat, but Carrie is one of those people who just gets stuck in – and I think this says a lot about her.
‘Tell me about this ex then,’ she says, still chewing. ‘Did he dump you on the trip or before you left home? Come on, V, what’s your story?’
I lay the burger back on the plate and nibble on a couple of fries. ‘It was in Bangkok. He just dumped me. Just like that. No explanation. I didn’t bother to hang around.’
‘Fucksake, what a prick.’ She takes a long drink of water. She seems less pissed now that the food has started to soak up the alcohol. ‘Were you together long?’
I make a non-committal face and hope that she takes the hint.
‘I’ve been plagued by bad luck on this trip,’ I say, finishing the last of my cocktail. The waitress must be watching us, as she comes scurrying over to collect the glasses.
‘Two more?’ she says. ‘You enjoy the food?’
Carrie nods, and the waitress grins at us again, before disappearing off towards the kitchen.
‘Go on,’ she says. ‘I was feeling sorry for myself not being with Laura. Hearing about other folk’s travelling disasters is making me feel better.’
‘Well I’ve been away for a long time now. Nearly a year. Before Sam—’
‘That’s your Bangkok bastard?’
I laugh. ‘Yes. Well before him, there was Michael…’
‘Oh, don’t tell me, he was a bastard too? I’m starting to think they really are all the same. My ex was called Greg. I dumped him just before we left…’ She pauses, and takes an angry bite of her burger. ‘Someone sent me a message telling me he was cheating on me.’
‘Shit,’ I say. ‘Did you confront him?’
She laughs, but it’s humourless. ‘You could say that. Anyway. Old. Fucking. News.’
The waitress places two more drinks in front of us, and Carrie holds hers aloft.
‘Cheers,’ she says.
I tap my glass against hers and take a long, slow drink.
She didn’t give me a chance to tell her what happened to Michael, and the moment is gone – and that’s fine. It’s probably better she doesn’t know. For now, at least.
‘You know,’ she continues, ‘I think I might be off men altogether. Pointless, useless and far too much hassle.’ She puts her glass on the table. ‘Give me a Rampant Rabbit and a few semi-naked pics of Gerard Butler in 300 and I’ll be fucking sorted.’ She laughs, then she leans across the table and puts both of her hands on top of mine. Her expression turns serious. ‘Listen. Don’t suppose you want my spare ticket? It’s for the Mongolian branch and I’ve got a couple of planned stop-offs. I kind of thought it might be interesting.’ She takes her hands away and leans back in her chair, picks up her napkin and wipes her mouth, then folds it into a neat square and lays it on top of her empty plate. ‘Like I said, Laura had to cancel, so I came on my own, but to be honest, after having a laugh with you tonight, I’m not sure I’m really up for being on my own anymore. Plus, it’s a total waste of a ticket—’
I can’t believe what she’s saying. This is not what usually happens. It’s normally me that’s the impulsive one. It’s usually me who has to do the convincing. But I don’t need convincing. I don’t even ask for any more details. I just gaze at her beautiful face and can’t believe my luck.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘One hundred percent, yes.’