Parking Lot Lesson in Humility

Can I just say the it is one thing to fall asleep in one's car while in one's own driveway, but that it is quite another to fall asleep in the parking lot of a a busy Starbucks?

This morning, after three 12-hour night shifts, three very long and very busy night shifts I might add, I drove as if on autopilot, to Starbucks. I really didn't even have to drive very far and I was already fighting sleep; this was going to be a rough ride home for sure. I wanted, no, I needed to stop at Starbucks for a coffee. I have a gift card from Adrienne, and what better time to use it than when in a state of desperation.

I pulled Morning Glory, the old Subaru, into a prominent parking spot, thinking I would be quick about this. But nooooo, I turned the car off and sat still for just a moment. . .

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. . .

I suddenly awoke, knowing I was being looked at through my car window. Yes, there they were. Three well-dressed mocha cappuccino sippers were pointing, and when I looked at them, they, as one unit, breathed a sigh of relief. I could see it on their faces. "Oh thank goodness, she's alive."

I tried to smile as I opened my door.
" I work night shift," I hastily explained.
They responded with "Oh, we were trying to see if you were breathing. A doctor just went inside and we were going to get him." 
 I reassured them that I was fine. Really, I was. Now if they could please just go away.

They did and I was so tired, so mortified at the picture I must have presented to them that I started crying. Not a lot, but enough. The idea of me sitting in my car, mouth gaping open, drool in the corner, eyes probably half-open (or is it half-closed). . . I shudder to think about it.

After the paparazzi  left me, I dried my tears and ventured into Starbucks. After all, I was here and I was awake now. As I went to reach for the door, the doctor, resplendent in his gray suit and wide-awakeness, stopped me and said with a chuckle, "I am glad you were only sleeping. We were taking bets." I'll just bet they were. Really, I wanted to sarcastically say, "Thanks soooo much for caring,", but instead I chuckled my most pleasant chuckle and said, "I must have looked like an idiot. Ha ha hee hee."

Then I went inside and ordered a Mocha Coconut Frappucchino. 
And a slice of Lemon Poundcake. 
You know, because now I really needed it. Not just to stay awake, but to soothe my wounded pride. 
It felt like all the preppie coffee drinkers in there were looking at me with my disheveled hair and lines on my face. Much to my relief, no one else said anything, but I am sure they thought it. 

Even now, writing this, I feel a little humiliated. I may never go back to that same Starbucks again.
Of course, I could wear a disguise, because that Mocha Coconut was really good. 

Love,
Dianne