The Cat on Flight 584

My trip home became a long one, an adventure, you could say, but more a test of patience and of my determination to not judge and to be kind. Of course, I was not directly involved, that is, not sitting close to the center of activity.

By 4:30 p.m. we were all on board. Nevermind that our flight was scheduled to leave at 3. Delays. Not unheard of.

As the plane finally began to pull back from the gate, the flight attendants took up the familiar explanation of the features of our Boeing 737 700 series. Just then, a woman sitting up near the front held up her cat, high above her head, for all to see. I was reading, but I may have been the only person on board who did not see, because there was an immediate stirring among the passengers and a few people began to speak up about their cat allergies.

The flight attendants stopped speaking, and the senior attendant must have called the captain because suddenly we were heading back to the gate. Oh, brother.

The senior attendant came forward and spoke to the woman with the cat. Then she spoke to the two people who said they were allergic. Then she explained to rest of us what was happening. The woman with the cat refused to move, as in, to the rear of the plane. The people with allergies refused to move also.

Folks were restless, becoming more restless, anxious about connecting flights, and irritated with the woman for taking her cat out of its carrier. A woman near me said, at least five times, each time with a more threatening tone, "As soon as I get off this plane I'm calling my attorney. You can bet on that." 

Okay, I thought, where do you think that will get you? I having recently dealt with Southwest Corporate over their four-day delay getting my lost luggage to me and their cavalier treatment of the matter, thought lawyer/schmawyer. (I know. She said attorney, a more professional-sounding word. Okay, attorney/schamorney.)

The flight attendant spoke to each of the parties again and got nowhere again. Meanwhile, time is passing and people are getting surly. "I want my money refunded," hollered someone. "I paid for a ticket. That cat didn't pay for anything."

The attendant explained that it is  Southwest policy to allow people to bring their pets. She did not say, but might have, that the people are supposed to keep the pets in their carriers. At least I would think that should be the condition. But what do I know? She also explained that Southwest has no policy for a situation like this one. Better work out a new policy, I mumbled to myself.

My seat neighbors were worried, pretty sure they would miss their connection to San Diego. The whole plane seemed united against the woman with the cat, believing her to be stupid or evil. 

After a while--a long while--a guy boarded the plane, some kind of Southwest official, although dressed quite casually for an official. He got our attention and I think we were all hopeful he would settle something. He said, "Can I see who is allergic to cats here?"

The two people raised their hands. "And," said the guy, "do you have medical evidence from a doctor verifying your allergies?"

The entire plane, me included, said "Ohh," in disbelief, frustration, and utter disgust. Two men gathered their carry-on bags and left the plane.

The guy spoke to the allergic people. One showed him the equipment in the overhead bin that they travel with to help her in case of allergy-related breathing difficulties, and they showed him her small "flit" dispenser. The other woman, Gail, had nothing to show. Neither of them would move to the back. They thought the cat woman should move and said so loud and strong.

The guy spoke to the cat woman. No.

Time is passing.

Another official came on board. And I'm not kidding. He obviously went over the same ground as before. With the same results.  People were yelling. "I want a refund." The attendant said, "Write a letter."

"At least we should get free drinks!"

"Not happening," she said. And, looking very disgusted, she said, "I have a bunch of adults here acting like children."

Finally, Gail gave in and traded seats with some guy at the back of the plane who was pretty happy to be moved up front.

At 5:30 we were taxiing down the runway to take off. Two and a half hours late. Eventually, things began to quiet. Except  for an occasional angry retelling of the whole thing by someone determined to stay mad. And a renewed threat by the woman who was going to call her attorney.

And, yes, except for the cat. I guess she put him back in the carrier, and he didn't like it.

By the way, when I finally arrived in Boise at 11:20 p.m., my luggage did not arrive with me.