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Just when I thought my globe-trotting had gone without a hitch....


I sat down on the plane from O'hare to San Diego, seated in the second-to-last row in the middle seat next to a large woman. We departed from the gate but the plane failed the safety check, and we wheeled back in to the gate for the maintenance crews to check it out.

I love that safe feeling you get when the fix-it man comes to put your airplane back together.

It was during this two hours of sitting in my seat in the stationary plane that I realized the strange whining, snorting, high-pitched squealing noise was coming not from a baby seated nearby.... but from the tiny lap dog stuffed into the bag which was at the feet of the large woman seated next to me. She unzipped the bag and the dog started sneezing and snot-ing all over my leg. It was then that I learned that the dog's name was "Boo Boo," and that its owner- this woman- was harboring particular concerns that the dog couldn't last this long without going to the bathroom again.

Remember, this was before the plane even got off the ground... before the four-hour, very turbulent flight on which that little monster cried, barked, wailed, squeaked, squealed, and generally broadcasted its gross, pathetic existence to the entire population of the airplane.