I was on a flight a few weeks ago late at night. Two seats on each side, but I didn’t have a partner. I happened to be sitting just behind the wing. It was a short flight, just over an hour from Indy to the east coast.
I was trying to close my eyes and sleep. Even for just a half hour. I wanted some rest.
No luck. Flashing lights.
The strobe from the wingtip was going off. Not only could I see it through the window across the aisle, but it was reflecting off of my window. The person by the window was somehow passed out, though. I thought that maybe I could get up and close it. But then it would get super awkward if I woke them up. Like, what the hell are you doing in my personal space on this airplane?!
Drinks were coming by. I got a Diet Coke. I had to do something. Old me would have said, look, it’s only what, a half hour more? 45 minutes? Close your eyes tighter. Look down. Look away. Lean your seat back. Get a shirt from your carry-on and wrap it around your head if that’s what you need. Check if there are empty seats in the back.
No.
“Excuse me, could you close that shade?”
“Oh, the light from outside?”
“Yes, thanks.”
They finished with the drinks, but didn’t close the shade. Should I get up? Risk that awkward situation? Should I be a full-on weirdo and open my carry-on and–
One of the flight attendants came by, leaned over to the window, didn’t wake up the person there and quickly closed it. Done.
I closed my eyes and was able to relax.
Hello. I stutter. 
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