I grabbed another blanket. Forty-five minutes after scheduled departure, we were on our way to Miami. In addition to dispatching stowaway birds, I've swatted flies and moths, flattened cockroaches, cornered a mouse, downed a couple of dragonflies and fought off a squadron of Caribbean bumblebees that wreaked havoc in the first-class cabin. But my piddling experiences pale in comparison to a trilogy of in-flight incidents involving rats. Yes, you read correctly.
Most flight attendants get squeamish when asked to carry a loaded barf bag to the lavatory.
Talk about rattling experiences. New Zealanders Dee Tracy and Paul Sanford had boarded the plane in Papeete. I jumped up onto the closest seat, but I was about six seats from where I was supposed to be sitting, so I had to climb over the seats to get to mine. When the flight finally landed in Auckland, quarantine officials were there to meet it. A search of the airplane and of passenger baggage failed to turn up the rodent, which, according to witnesses, was the size of a small cat.