Night Travel - June 23, 2026

I scoot forward to the end of the bed and lower my legs through the darkness.  The carpet, a welcome touchdown, but what is needed is a safe trip to the toilet.  With a forward rocking motion, I vault into vertical and take my first stilted step. Neither hand assists – I’m the father who wants his child to ride the bike without help.  I wobble, throw the other foot forward and rebalance.  Two steps later and my right-hand locks onto the bathroom’s doorframe.  Relief and a nightlight steady the final few strides.  Porcelain does not gleam in this light, so I aim into the middle or close enough and wait to hear the stream, then slower and slower . . . and slower . . . . to an overly patient stop. Now, partly awake, I shut down guidance, switch off velocity control, turn on autopilot and stop for a quick sip as I amble back to my sheeted home. 

Luckily, a mattress is quite a large runway, so the worst pilot in the world would have no trouble landing a plane there, even if the touchdown would be cringeworthy from an airport tower, I’m not aware of anyone dying from tumbling into bed.