Dogs on a Plane

I got off the ferry from Vermont and met my mother in New York so that she could drive me to Albany. I had to go to Albany so that I could fly to Chicago. I had to get to Chicago so that I could fly to Tampa. I had to go to Tampa so that I could sing opera and stuff, but this is not an opera story. This is the true story of the dogs on the plane.

My first flight was on time (not hugely delayed like my second flight) and it was packed. I did my usual flying alone thing, which was to find the first free aisle seat closest to the front of the plane. As I sat down and saw the line of passengers continuing to pour in, I knew that it would not be long before the middle seat next to me was taken.

The girl who sat next to me was very nice. She was in medical school and needed to get home because her grandmother was sick. She was pleasant, and we had some nice conversation during the flight. Also, she had a bag full of dogs.

Her carryon was a small bag that you would not think could possibly contain two dogs, but you do not know what you are thinking about, because it did contain two dogs! Two very small dogs. A black dog (the bad one) and a white dog (the good one). These dogs fought and barked for the entire flight.

The girl assured me that her dogs flew all the time, and they were never like this, and of course it was the bad one’s fault, and why oh why would they pick today to be bad and fighting?! I suggested to her that perhaps the white one was really the instigator, just trying to get the black one in trouble, like when we were kids on long car rides and my brother would poke me repeatedly for hours until I finally smacked him, but of course my Mom only saw what I did, and, well you get the idea.

She did not seem to think this was the case, and I must admit, it was not looking good for the black one when, moments later, she reached into the bag to try and break up a fight, and the black dog bit her severely on the hand. I mean, there was a good amount of blood there. I suggested that she ask the flight attendant for a first aid kit, or at least some water and a napkin, but the girl did not seem to want anyone else to know about the vicious dog attack that had just happened. She just asked if I had any hand sanitizer, which I did not.

In hindsight, maybe it was good that she didn’t let on that the dog was feeling bitey, because shortly after this, that bad dog escaped from its bag. Don’t worry, she caught him pretty quickly. It was funny though, to hear a little girl a few rows back repeatedly telling her father that she heard dogs barking, and him telling her that there were no dogs on the plane, and someone must just be making dog noises. Classic.

Well, we finally made it through our 210 minute flight, and everyone seemed to have survived. I made my delayed connection and landed in Tampa (at 1 am, grrrr) and am ready to start rehearsing. I don’t know what happened to that girl, her bag of dogs, or her bloody hand, but I guess it’s a good thing she’s in medical school.