Definition: In this task, you are given a Reddit post as a text. Your task is to generate a title for this text. The title should start with "TIFU by", followed by a situation that caused humor. The title should contain 7-12 words, ideally.
Input: Text: in true tifu fashion, this happened a few years ago when i was on a long-haul red-eye flight. i am a nervous flyer, so i had a few wines to calm my nerves and promptly fell asleep. i woke up with horrendous pins and needles in one of my feet, busting to go to the toilet. i weaved my unsteady way down the darkened aisle, dragging my leg like quasimodo, finally arriving at the claustrophobia-inducing toilet cubicle.

my stomach turned over when i saw how wet the floor was and i almost barfed when i got a lungful of the fetid air. having no choice, however, i lifted my skirt, pulled down my underwear, and did “the crouch” over the soggy seat, avoiding all contact as best i could considering i had a brick for a foot and was fighting alcohol-induced dizziness.

the relief was enormous until i noticed my panties had slid past my sleeping foot and were resting on the floor, greedily soaking up a puddle of who knows what from who knows who. ugh. acting on instinct, i fought my rising nausea and slid my other foot out of them, cleaned up, re-arranged my skirt, washed my hands and was about to exit when my brain woke up and said “hey… you really want to leave your undies in a toilet cubicle?” obviously not, but neither did i want to *touch* them. thinking quickly, i kicked them as far behind the toilet as i could (so, not far at all, really), planning to ask the flight attendant for a nuclear-waste disposal container and return to get rid of the evidence.

i exited the cubicle, and to my horror, an old guy was waiting to go in. this in itself should have set off alarm bells. it was 2am. everyone else on the plane was asleep. there were four toilets, all of them empty, and he was waiting to go into the only occupied one. did it occur to me that this was weird? did it fck. i raced back to my seat as quickly as my (now burning-like-the-fire-of-hell) foot would allow, and informed my so of what had transpired. his response was to hand me the industrial-grade plastic wrapper from his airline blanket. which i, to add insult to injury, immediately and comprehensively puked in.

cue my so being dispatched to the toilet cubicle to retrieve the errant panties… and returning two minutes later to report that not only had he failed to locate his quarry, he had seen the old guy exiting the cubicle *stuffing something into his pocket*.

i lurched back down the aisle, armed with a fresh blanket bag, needing to see for myself that my undies were indeed gone. to my absolute horror, they were nowhere to be found. in my desperation, i even triple-wrapped my arm in the blanket plastic and conducted a quick reconnaissance mission in the paper-filled waste bin. nothing. after coating my entire arm in the whole bottle of hazardous-waste-masquerading-as-hand-sanitizer, i exited the cubicle. doing what felt like a walk of shame back to my seat, i clocked the undie-stealer, two rows ahead of us in the aisle seat, eyes closed, apparently asleep, wearing a creepy sleep-smile *with his hands in his pockets*.

what to do? accost an old guy and reveal my shame, possibly leading to some air marshal cuffing me for being drunk and causing a nuisance, and causing the plane to land in some unpronounceable flea pit of a country to offload me? how to even explain the situation without appearing to be a wine-swilling, germ-phobic, undie-ditching creep myself? nothing for it but to return to my seat and try to sleep through the honking sounds of my so trying to contain his mirth.

when we were woken for breakfast five hours later, i consumed liters of black coffee whilst attempting to burn a hole in the back of the panty-stealer’s head with my glare. i was still staring when we disembarked, all the way up the corridor and well into the airport. in fact, i continued to stare until i missed my bag on the carousel and was forced to look away momentarily.

panty-stealer remained oblivious to my murderous intent. walking slowly, waiting calmly for his bag, collecting it from the conveyor and appearing to be such a harmless and guileless old man that i began to believe i had made a mistake. (in fact, if i hadn’t been wearing no underwear, i would have been convinced it didn’t even happen).

then, just as i was beginning to calm down in the taxi queue, the old guy climbs into a cab ahead of us and *waves at me out the window* with a huge, leery smile on his dirty old face.

the last thing that guy saw as his cab pulled away was me, with the remaining blood draining from my face, shouting in utter indignation “i knew it!” while my so fell over cry-laughing. i spent the remaining holiday alternatively hoping the old guy: a) just threw them out or, b) did what i feared he was going to do with them and caught some kind of nasty from the human soup on the toilet floor.

i now carry a disposable raincoat and spare underwear every time i fly. this event has passed into family folklore as “the undie incident” and will almost certainly outlive me.

edit: formatting

TIFU by leaving my panties in an airplane toilet. An old guy took them, stuffed them in his pocket, and pretended it didn't happen.