It Girl. Nic Tatano
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my head, knowing I had to stay awake for at least four more hours.
Great way to approach a first date, huh?
***
Rob the media buyer came as advertised, appropriately enough. His photo didn't do him justice, as he was even cuter in person. About five-ten, slender, with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes, he wore a sincere smile that brought long dimples into play.
Had I been wide awake, I probably would have been as excited as a schoolgirl and ready to jump his bones.
Alas, I was already fighting the sandman as we placed our order in the city's trendiest restaurant, which looked like a throwback to the gaslight era. Antiques everywhere, the only light provided by candles. A bubbling fountain in the center. Rose petals on the tablecloth. If I were in the mood I would have considered it incredibly romantic. Though we had a corner table in the back, I was getting constant stares. I politely smiled at everyone as I wondered if it would break some etiquette rule to dine while wearing sunglasses. I would make it a point to face the back of the restaurant any time I eat out in the future.
Rob was indeed a good match as we did have a lot in common. Thankfully he was carrying the conversation, as I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness. A quick look at the huge old grandfather clock told me I had three and a half hours to go. I was considering falling asleep during the play with the excuse that I was bored.
"The ad rates for your show have gone up since you started," he said. "Madison Avenue likes you."
"Good to know," I said.
The conversation segued nicely to sports, with his favorite teams, the Giants and the Mets, also being mine. His words began to fade and got a hollow sound as the tuxedoed waiter arrived with the soup course. He slid the china bowl in front of me and I tried to focus, but suddenly the world began to spin. I saw little black spots and knew from past experience I was about to pass out.
I grabbed the arms of my chair but I couldn't stop myself and the world went dark.
When I awakened, my vision cleared and I saw Rob and a waiter standing over me, both fanning me with napkins. My face felt very warm.
I had fainted, and gone head first into a bowl of lobster bisque.
"Do you need a doctor, Madame?" asked the waiter with a French accent.
"I'm fine," I said, right before I passed out again.
***
My eyes flickered as bright sunlight spilled onto my face.
Obviously, it was no longer Saturday night. I stretched my eyes open and looked up at industrial white ceiling tiles and a large fluorescent light that definitely wasn't the one in my apartment.
"Morning, sunshine."
I leaned up and saw Layla and Savannah seated at the foot of the bed, which was also clearly not my bed.
I was in a hospital room. "What the hell happened?" I asked.
"You passed out on your date," said Layla, who got up and moved toward the bed. "Twice. He called nine-one-one and they brought you to the emergency room, then checked you in for the night."
Savannah stood up. "I'll go get the doctor and let him know you're awake."
"What time is it?" I asked, as I stretched my arms out and yawned.
"Eleven on Sunday morning," said Layla. She sat on the edge of the bed. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna wake up. You've been out about seventeen hours."
"How did you know I was here?"
Layla reached for the end table, grabbed a bunch of newspapers and handed them to me. "Well, everyone kinda knows you're here."
I sat up and looked at the front page of New York's most popular tabloid. There I was, passed out on a stretcher, hunks of lobster in my cream-covered hair and mouth hanging open like a trophy bass, under the blaring headline.
MORNING ANCHOR GOES BOBBING FOR LOBSTER
"Dear God!" I said.
"Yeah, not exactly a Kodak moment."
I unfolded the paper and turned to the article.
Veronica Summer apparently doesn't need a spoon when eating soup.
The new co-anchor of The Morning Show did a header into her twenty dollar bowl of lobster bisque last night while dining at The Firefly, one of Manhattan's hottest restaurants. Her dinner companion, a young man who was not identified, called 911 after she passed out, was revived, and passed out again. A waiter at the restaurant confirmed Ms. Summer had not had any alcohol. She was taken to NYU's emergency room and admitted for overnight observation. Blood tests revealed no alcohol or drugs in her system.
A source close to the show tells us Ms. Summer has been exhausted trying to adjust to the early morning shift and suggested the weird hours and lack of sleep may have finally caught up with her.
No word on if she'll be back on the set Monday morning.
I rolled my eyes, dropped the newspaper and slapped my head back on the pillow as a doctor entered the room.
"Well, good morning, young lady," he said, sticking out his hand. "I'm Doctor Heller." He was perhaps forty, short and pudgy with thinning sandy hair and hazel eyes peering out of a moon face.
I shook his hand. "Veronica Summer. Sorry to tie up one of your beds for nothing."
He picked up the chart hanging on the foot of the bed and looked at it. "From what I can tell, a bed is what you need. When's the last time you had a good night's sleep?"
"Last night?"
"I meant before we checked you in here."
"A few weeks ago, before I took a morning anchor job."
"Yes, I watch your show. You're obviously doing a good job faking being awake. Your friends tell me you're having a lot of trouble adjusting to the overnight shift."
"I can't sleep more than four hours at a time. And it's also depressing the hell out of me. I've got no life. My whole life revolves around trying to get to sleep."
He nodded. "Have you been taking anything to help you sleep?"
"Wine. Over the counter sleeping pills. Melatonin. Nyquil. I've tried everything. Not at the same time, of course. Nothing works for more than four hours."
"Before you started working this shift, what usually helped you get a really good night's sleep?"
"Sex."
He bit his tongue and smiled. "I, uh, don't think your insurance covers that."
"Sure, it'll cover Viagra for guys but when women need some help, nooooo."
He laughed, pulled a pen and prescription pad from his pocket and started writing. "I'm going to prescribe a strong sleep aid. And this one should be more effective than a boyfriend and won't get you pregnant."
"Ooooh, I like a doctor who's a smartass."
"Occupational hazard when you work in the emergency room. Anyway, this medication has been very effective with my patients who work unusual shifts, like you. Now there is a small chance of a side effect. People have been known to drive while asleep—"
"I don't have a car and I don't know how to steal one. Just give me whatever it will take to knock me out."
He smiled and nodded as he ripped the prescription from the pad and handed it to me. "By the way, you had a ridiculous amount of caffeine in your system. Try to cut back. The thing that's helping you wake up for your show is also keeping you awake when you're trying to sleep. It takes quite awhile for caffeine to get out of your system. If you can simply get your sleep cycle adjusted, you won't need it."
"Got it. Thanks, doctor."
"I'll