In her little white hat.

I have this friend, let’s call her Vivian, who did something really hilarious and mortifying a couple of months back. At the time, I thought, this is some funny shit! But poor Vivian was embarrassed, so I didn’t write about it. Well now time has passed, and she’s been flipping me a lot of shit lately, so I’ve decided it’s time to tell the tale.

Viv lives in Portland, has two kids, and is enjoying being newly single. She invited me to come to her work’s post-holiday party, and I eagerly agreed, as it was on a boat on the river and would feature cocktails and twinklyness.

A couple of weeks prior to this, Vivian had begun a naughty, secret relationship with one of her co-workers. She was VERY nervous about being at a social thing together for the first time, and also, I’m sure, was hoping he’d show well so that I’d like him, too.

Vivian decided to deal with these nerves as one does, in copious vodka crans. She proceeded to be flirty and giggly and not at all sloppy about it, but girl got DA-RUNK.

It was a great evening. Her company is really cool and progressive, so there were plenty of interesting people to talk to. Portland looked lovely in the cold, night air. The Boy did indeed show well.

When the boat docked, Vivian realized for the first time how drunk she might be. There was some sitting, then some composing, and a very quick goodbye and thank you to the boss.

Spirits were still high, though, as she handed me her keys, and we made our way to her car, giggling over her swoopiness. But then I got lost down there in that dark, dockyard area of town. There was some turning around, and maybe a sudden turn or two. By the time we made it to the highway, it was quiet in the car and I knew she wasn’t feeling well.

We were hurtling down a section of 205 with no where to pull over when she said she was going to be sick, and started searching around in the car for a bag, which of course was not there.

(Let me pause to say he-ey. Who hasn’t been there? The passenger seat puke. In the purse? The lap? Not the floor of YOUR OWN CAR. Certainly not. )

Poor, poor Vivian. She just wanted to go to her fancy work party and dance and have fun and show her fun friend from Tacoma a good time.

She puked. At 70 miles an hour. In her cute. Little. White. Hat.

 (This is not the actual hat. It was whiter and fluffier, and the pom pom was much jauntier.)

Poor Vivian was VERY embarrassed. I felt terrible for her. I knew she must be mortified, but that there was no way I could possibly communicate to her that REALLY. She did NOT have to be embarrassed about puking in front of ME of all people. I have been known to puke.

It was quiet for a while and then she said, “I’m afraid you’re going to think I’m an alcoholic now.”

“No, Viv,” I said, “I won’t. Puking in your hat is a total amateur move.”