lost, yet to be found

I put my bag in the over head bin and take my seat, in the middle of a three seat row. The man next to me can't speak English. He asks in Spanish if we could switch seats. I shake my head because I don't understand but the woman to my right, his wife, I guess, does a better job of signing it out.
So I'm sitting in the window seat, tired as hell because I haven't had a good night's sleep in a while. So I try to sleep.
I start to doze off.
Deeper.
Deeper.
Three minutes latter the pilot gets on the speaker and goes through his spiel. It sounds like he's screaming. I'm wide awake now. I sit and listen.
"In the event of a water landing...." And my mind quickly jumps at that thought. A water landing, maybe right next to a deserted island where, when I made it from the crash, no one would be able to find me. I like that thought and I'm thinking more about it as my eyes shut in utter exhaustion from the hour of sleep I got the night before. I don't realize it, but I'm dreaming now and dreaming of the thought of me being stranded in the middle of no where and suddenly the plane jerks and I jerk and I'm awake and starring out the window at the clouds and we're high in the air now and I never even realized we took off. Funny how that works.