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When I saw this title, I knew I was being compelled by a higher force to share a story with you all. THAT story. The one that alas could also double very effectively as "My most embarrassing moment" story. I will obey the call, and write the story, but I warn you now - this may be brief, as after the writing of it I expect to be forced into hiding out of shame and terminal blushing.

I was a mere twenty-three years old and traveling with much excitement to Thailand, alone, for a gap year. When traveling alone I always find that I am invariably seated between the man with the vociferous cold who sneezes and coughs for 18 hours infecting the entire plane with his personally developed strain of the cold virus, and the exhausted mother with none too happy infant on her knee.

On this journey, the Travel Gods had smiled upon me, and I had... a Window Seat! This in itself was reward enough for all the times I have smiled my most honeyed smile at the check in clerk in the faintest hope of getting an upgrade. However, it got better. On the other side of my coveted window sat a man. Not a sneeze, not a cough, not a soggy tissue to be seen. But a man who appeared to have jumped straight out of my "Hello" magazine advertising some trendy new fragrance. He was lovely; he had golden hair, tanned skin and looked cool and aloof enough to impress my 23-year-old self greatly. It was pretty clear that he had no intention of speaking to the homely (ok, what I actually mean is slightly overweight!) girl beside him who in anticipation of a long flight was wearing her most "comfortable" clothes, had scraped back her hair and abandoned all pretence of make up. I wasn't expecting any mid-air romantic fairytales, it was quite enough that I got to sit beside him for the duration. Maybe some people might even think we were traveling together! (Although in truth I knew that it was obvious we were not).

The plane took off and the usual routine of plastic cups of juice and impossible-to-open packets of peanuts ensued (this was before they decided it was far too dangerous to serve peanuts mid-air in case some curious person with a nut allergy thought that it might be fun to find out if altitude renders all allergies cured).

Before long my eyes became heavy and my head started to nod. I allowed myself to drift off into the sort of uncomfortable sleep that is only experienced on long haul flights. I am not sure how long I slept, but suddenly I awoke.

I awoke with a jump. I awoke to find my head dangerously encroaching on my dream man's personal space. And to my unending trauma and humiliation, I awoke with the sure and certain knowledge that as my head lolled dangerously onto his shoulder, my usual tendency to sleep with my mouth open had intervened, and I had in fact BITTEN him.

Oh the shame! He looked at me askance and I shut my eyes, pretended I was sleeping again, and prayed for those Gods of Travel to develop a hole in the side of the aircraft and suck me out of there. Sadly, they did not, and I spent the rest of the journey trying to pretend I had no idea what had happened.

I have never been so keen to get off an airplane in my entire life. Telling this story, even writing here where no one knows me, still has the ability to make me blush, cringe, and generally want to curl into a ball and vanish under the desk at which I sit. Thus, as predicted, I must now run and hide!

Learn more about this author, Vicki Niedzielska.
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