(This post is part of a series of 50+ short stories from my adventures over the years. It will be eventually assembled into a book under the same title.)

The first time I boarded a business-class international flight was to a keynote speech in Singapore a few years back. My itinerary was to I fly first class on Virgin Airlines from Chicago ORD to Heathrow for 8 hours and then transfer to Singapore Airlines in their signature business class service on the world’s largest airplane the Airbus A380 for the final 12 hours to the end destination of Singapore City. My keynote was the morning after my arrival so getting a decent modicum of sleep was paramount for success and I asked a friend to borrow a couple of Ambien pills for the trip. I had never taken Ambien before, but I had researched the nature of its efficacy. Used often by the military, these pills typically feature 4-5 hours of “hard” sleep followed by an alert and ready wakeup - perfect for a soldier on patrol. Perfect, I thought.

I boarded the Chicago to Heathrow flight, relaxed in my large seat, had a nice dinner, drank a bottle of water and then headed to the stand-up bar in the business/first class area for a glass of wine or two, mingling with the rich and internationally famous. I then sprawled out in my lie-flat seat, took an Ambien and quickly fell asleep.

Well, mistakes were made. I had not used the restroom and a lot of liquids had been consumed.

I woke approximately two hours later in the middle of my Ambien slumber and desperately needed to use the head. I shook my head wondering if I was impaired from the Ambien but seemed fine and thought, “OK, I am good to go.” I lifted my bed/seat back to sitting position and ambled down the aisle to the bathroom, marveling at my ability to function despite the ambien. I entered the stall, locked the door to turn on the light and then…

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I woke up on the floor, my face pressed against urine-stained porcelain. I had passed out in the tiny bathroom and had crumpled to the floor curled around the base of the toilet. It was disgusting, but that was not my first concern. My primary worry was that I had no idea how long I had been there and I was worried that the military police or airline crew might be waiting outside the door. My pants were still unzipped (apparently I had managed to relieve myself after all.) So, I picked myself up, zipped up my pants, washed my hands and face and … carefully opened the door. It was still dark and no one was there waiting. Perhaps it was just 5 minutes or perhaps 30 or 90 minutes… I guess I will never know.

Discretely I headed back to my seat, spread it back out, and slept the rest of the way to Heathrow without incident.

Why Am I Still Alive Pt. 3: The First Time I Tried Ambien