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I work nights. It's not so bad once you get used to it. You don't have to deal with rush-hour traffic, you get to sleep in, and you can accomplish a full day's worth of errands before you even get in the shower.

But when it's time to rejoin society, the shift change can be... difficult.

Like catching a flight... a 7:10 AM flight... to Denver, having only 5 hours to get off work, go home, sleep, wake up and stumble to the airport and through security.

So exhausted might you be, in fact, that when you got up and went to the bathroom, you would be biologically unable to pee straight. You would then walk the 19 rows back to your seat without noticing the enormous puddle on the inseam of your pants.

Luckily, once you overcame the initial shock-- the initial “No!… Is it?… Does it smell like it could be…”-- You’d quickly drape your red hoodie over yourself blanket-style, like a 13 year old girl when confronted by her unexpected first period.

Then, of course, the stewardesses might come by with the drink cart. The same drink cart you had to squeeze by on the very long, very visible walk back to your seat (Or, as you worry your fellow passengers have dubbed it, The Saint Urea Day Parade.)

"This is how I'll know," you might think." If they DON'T offer me a drink, them I'll know for sure that they-- and everyone else between First Class and Row 19-- have definitely seen my shame-puddle, and so won’t offer me a drink, considering their new concerns about my bladder control."

The drink cart would rattle down the fuselage. Stopping at every row, taking orders.

15B-- Dr. Pepper, no ice.

17C-- 2 boxes of cookies and a glass of orange juice.

At every herk-and-jerk stop, you would wonder if you can actually feel the cold, wet spot on your lap, and wonder how your ancestors weren’t made extinct in a harsh, Darwinian world of Survival Of The Fittest.

At the aisle to Row 19, it would be understandable if you held your breath as you saw a pair of black nylons. A navy jumper. A red neckerchief.

"Drink, sir?"

It would be perfectly excusable for you to let out a gust of relieved air.

“Water.”

And you’d make yourself go to sleep.