quelle horreur

So, my flight from New Zealand to Los Angeles was 12 hours, not that I noticed. I boarded the plane, watched a short movie, ate a very unmemorable dinner, folded my seat into a flat bed (oh the heaven that are business class seats) and promptly passed out for nine or so hours.
I slept through dessert. The duty free cart did not wake me up. I missed the sunrise. I slept through breakfast. I finally woke up about an hour before landing. It's a good thing I didn't sleep all the way to the gate.

When I finally woke up, I looked and felt a complete wreck. No problem, though, I am a frequent traveler and prepared for these contingencies. I went to the airplane bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and here is the key piece, people, changed my clothes.

I went back to my seat, feeling like a completely new person and congratulating myself for really pulling it together. I was busily organizing my luggage for landing when one of the flight attendants sidled up alongside. He asked, "Honey, did you do a complete change just now?"

Wide-eyed I looked at him and gasped out a "yes..."

He nodded seriously in reply and mock whispered, "Then I think you left something behind..."

I whipped my head around for the offending article of clothing. He just shook his head and handed me my unmentionables wrapped in a paper napkin.

The horrible question, that will forever remain unanswered, is where exactly did I drop them?

I didn't dare ask for breakfast after that.