She pulled into the Dutch Bros. parking lot around 6:10pm, groaning to herself about the short line of cars ahead of her. She kept her sunglasses on as she pulled up to the window.
“I feel fucked up,” she thought as she ordered two drinks: one iced kicker and one ER-911, the latter having six shots of espresso.
The woman asked her which drink was for her and she admitted that the 6-shot insanity drink was her own. She thought back to the previous night and realized how melancholy it all was. That was her last show in Phoenix for, what? Months? Yes, that seemed about right. Her mind stopped there, however, because she woman handed her the drinks and she was soon on her way, driving east on Camelback towards 7th street. She took large gulps of the coffee, willing the caffeine to move to her blood stream as quickly as possible. She still had so much left to do with the day, yet running on three hours of sleep seemed to be taking its toll.
“Ugh. Never again. No more going to bed at 2:30am and waking up at 5:30am. No more being out late when I need to be up the next morning. No more early morning shoots,” she silently vowed.
Still, as she drove on she knew this would not be the last time she powered through a day with nothing but coffee, concealer, and ibuprofen to keep her going.