Flying by the seat of your pants...

As a travelling Mouse I have had many adventures involving the actual travel.  Especially on planes.  I have been re-directed, cancelled, delayed an on one occasion my flight was not even showing on the board - rescheduled by the Airline one week previously, and my booking agent, Expedimouse Travel, had not bothered to let me know.  They did divert me on that occasion, but I had to cancel a whole afternoon's worth of meetings with the Miss Mooses and they didn't take responsibility when I asked them to compensate me for the very expensive flight that I had booked - they blamed the airline and offered me a very small amount of money off if I booked a very expensive holiday with them - their way of saying sorry.  Well Miss Mouse does not need expensive holidays thank you very much.  


Anyway - this time the plane was on schedule and we were ushered into the lounge.  I sat near the ladies who do the tickets, as I like to watch the other passengers come in and play 'bagsy not sitting next to that one' with myself.  I had been sitting there for a while and I could hear the plane crew on the radio to the ticket lady.  


'Can you ask whoever is in seat 15a if they would mind moving please?'


I glanced at my own ticket - 18a.  Ooh I wondered why?? perhaps they needed to get someone else in there especially - maybe a Ms. Cat was travelling with her kitten for the first time and they needed to sit together.  This would be interesting - and I would be near enough to see.


The ticket lady put a call out - for a man-in-a-suit who was in seat 15a - but he didn't come.  I would never find out what the drama was.


So I got on my plane - I was nearly the last on - perhaps because I am the smallest and have small legs, or perhaps because I was updating Twitter and daydreaming about cheese.  On the way in I passed the man-in-a-suit from seat 15a - who was being ushered into a new seat - no - row - all to himself, whilst the rest of the plane remained cramped.  Anyway I got to my seat and the big man next to me made a fuss about having to get out to let me in.  I was secretly pleased because the previous passenger had left an airline blanket on my seat.  You don't often get airline blankets unless you are in the PREMIUM seats at the front of the plane, which are exactly the same as the regular seats but cost four times as much and come with a cardboard meal.


I tried to look over at seat 15a to see who had caused the fuss but I couldn't see anybody.  I'm only little as I may have just mentioned.


Big man next to me was playing important games on his iPad, elbows too-ing and fro-ing rather too near to my whiskers for comfort, so I decided to make the most of my free blanket and snuggle up to sleep.  I pulled it out from under me and made a pillow.  Lovely.


I woke up a couple of hours later, as the plane was landing.  The first thing I noticed is that I didn't feel quite right.  Something about my fur.  It was a bit, well, warm, where I was sitting.


The plane emptied and as I shuffled over to jump down, I felt my, er... derriere with my paw.  It was damp.


I looked at where I had been sitting.  A foreboding wet patch right in the middle.  Now I know it wasn't me.  I am a well trained Mouse and a lady as well.  I considered the kind of spillage that could end up directly in the middle of the seat.  And thought about how many unhappy small children I have seen travelling on planes.


I didn't like the way those two thoughts mixed.


I politely mentioned this to the nice yellow haired lady with lipstick who had been bringing the coffees and modelling life vests and her face went funny.


'Oh.' she said. 'Perhaps the cleaners did not mean 15a.  Perhaps they meant 18a.'


I asked her what the liquid might have been.


'Um.  Water.  Yes.  Water.' she replied, going a funny colour.


She was very apologetic and offered me a cleaning voucher.  I politely declined as, well, fur doesn't really come off, and I didn't want to be battered around inside an industrial cleaner.


'Please forgive us,' she said.  'It was a mistake.  Human error.'


It was this last phrase that saved the day.  Humans can make errors too?  I know Miss Mouses can, and Miss Mooses, but this nice lady was very sorry.


I smiled at her and said goodbye, slid down the bannister of the plane (you try doing those big steps with 2 inch legs), and scuttled off straight to the washroom for a thorough scrub down.


I shall, in future, be checking underneath any blankets before snuggling up.


Yours carefully,


Mouse xxx