It is a singular, unmistakable moment that every frequent flyer knows well—and dreads just a little bit. You’ve boarded a plane and traveled a long distance, many time zones away from your home. Arriving at your destination, you check into your hotel and fall into bed, your own circadian rhythms overwhelming you, the rushing current of sleep pulling you down into it very deeply. Perhaps the sun hasn’t even set out there, outside your window.
And then, a few hours later, it happens. In the wee, quiet hours of the earliest morning. The middle of the night, really. And your eyes flutter open. Staring at the ceiling, or looking out the window, searching the horizon for even a sliver of light, you know it for certain in your heart. It may only be 2:30 a.m. on the clock. Your mind is telling you to go back to bed. But your body knows you are now awake and will remain awake for a very long day.
