As someone who doesn’t over-imbibe, I’m unaccustomed to the feeling of wondering what I may have done, or not done, during a given period of time. I’m not always proud of what I’ve done, but I generally have a pretty clear sense of what it was.
I recently had an episode that put me in the position of wondering what had happened, and here’s the story.
I was scheduled to be at a conference in Phoenix for a couple of days, and I needed to visit with a client in Denver, so I cleverly booked my flights to include a long layover in Denver, leaving enough time to do a couple of client visits and get back in time to continue on to Phoenix.
Things went surprisingly well until I got back to the Denver airport to discover that my flight to Salt Lake City (from which I was to connect to Phoenix) was delayed. Always the optimist, I didn’t change my flight plans, hoping for the best, but I did call the airline to reserve a back-up flight the next morning, just in case.
My optimism turned out to be unfounded, so I was to spend the night in Utah, where I might be considered a wild and crazy guy, by comparison. But, there was a hitch: there were no hotel rooms available in Salt Lake City, or anywhere nearby. A big convention (of Biblical – New Testament – proportions) had taken every last one.
So, being a bit too clever, I asked the gate agent if he could book me into Phoenix via Atlanta. I know enough geography to know it didn’t make sense, but I was grasping at straws. He enthusiastically set to work, and at 1am I was on my way to Atlanta, where I’d get a flight to Phoenix at 8am.
From time to time I get a bit anxious when I fly, and as such I have some tiny little pills that my doctor has given me. I rarely take them, but I know from experience that they make sleep in an airplane possible, so before boarding, I took one.
From that point on, things are pretty fuzzy. The gate agent had kindly upgraded me to First Class, which was a treat. I remember having a soft drink and a cookie. Then nothing. Then I remember the flight attendant asking me if I wanted breakfast. I remember saying yes. They I remember her waking me up to point out that she had brought my breakfast tray. I remember saying thank you. Then I remember waking up as the plane landed, and walking a bit unsteadily into the terminal.
It was a day later that I remembered the breakfast, and wondered if I had eaten it, not eaten it, or dreamed the whole thing. Then I got really embarrassed. Not only do I picture myself sound asleep with a tray of food in front of me, perhaps with a fork in my hand, but I also imagine myself snoring loudly and drooling, as the other First Class patrons point and laugh.
So, that’s my story. I can’t help think about revising the old horse-watering saying to this: “You can lead Peter to breakfast, but after that, who knows?”