Word for word, here's what my company-issue flight attendant manual says about celebrity animals:

Celebrity Animals are defined as: Cats/Dogs that are seen on popular TV programs/commercials. Usually travel in the First Class cabin but can travel in any cabin. Do not require pet kennels to be accommodated in the cabin.

A celebrity animal is considered acceptable if the animal is: Free of odor and parasites or well-mannered and harnessed.

Celebrity animals may be seated at the owner's feet during takeoff and landing. A celebrity animal may travel in a passenger seat provided the following: Must be a celebrity animal, not have a celebrity owner / Animal companion must provide own seat cushion and seat belt adapter for animal to be strapped in seat.

I'm not making this up.

One month prior to the Ansett Airlines snake fiasco, a small bird flew into the cabin of a United Airlines jet while it was parked at a gate at Washington's Dulles Airport. The bird reportedly flew into the cockpit of the London-bound aircraft and hid behind an electrical panel. Although mechanics removed the panel, it took more than 2 1/2 hours to locate the creature. By then the airline had decided to change planes, "just to play it safe," said United spokesman Tony Molinaro. The delay lasted three hours.

A few years ago, I had a similar onboard encounter. While passengers filed into our aircraft in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, a sparrow flew in right along with them. It darted up the aisle, skimming the heads of passengers, who ducked and stood up, ducked and stood up, repeating the movement with fluid solidarity each time the sparrow buzzed the cabin. It reminded me of football fans doing the wave in a crowded stadium.

During an elongated flyby pause, passengers managed to make it to their seats. That's when my colleague sprang into action. Suzanne began chasing the bird up and down the aisle, swinging her arms in an effort to shoo it out the door. I stood in back of the aircraft, eyes squinting, arms folded across my chest, watching, waiting, praying I wouldn't have to get involved. When Suzanne gave me a dirty look, I felt a sudden compulsion to join the chase.

Judging by the boisterous laughter that ensued, our bird-chasing efforts were providing the kind of onboard entertainment passengers only dream of. Children stared at us with big goofy grins stretched across their faces. Men roared like giddy lions. Women held their sides in fits of silent sniggering. One giggling woman asked, "Do you guys get paid extra for this?"

I felt like a circus clown.

But after departure time had come and gone, and the stowaway bird continued to fly sorties through the crowded cabin, the mirth began to fade. Not for lack of comedic activity, mind you. The flight attendants' "run through the cabin and try to catch the frigging bird" routine had risen to new heights of hilarity once the rest of the crew joined the act. But many passengers began to focus on a more critical issue. They realized their flight connections in Miami were now in jeopardy.

The clock was ticking. Ten more minutes passed. Twenty. The sparrow flew around and around the cabin, chirping insanely like a wind-up toy with a busted spring. The same passengers who had been laughing at our ineffective efforts were now demanding that something be done. "This is ridiculous," blurted one enraged man. Of course it's ridiculous, you moron. (I didn't say this, of course, but I really, really wanted to.) There's a goddamned bird flying inside the goddamned airplane with four flight attendants running after it.

Though cabin crews are trained to handle in-flight childbirth, cabin decompression, onboard fires and emergency evacuations, we are not skilled in the process of removing uninvited sparrows from the cabin. We had to wing it.

After cornering the sparrow in the aft galley, we shut the curtain and stuffed blankets in the gaps around the curtain rod. I grabbed another blanket. Like a devious sophomore with a wet towel in his hand, I snapped the blanket toward (not at) the bird, hoping to coax it out the door. After a couple of near-hits that would have piqued the ire of renegade animal-rights activists, our feathered friend finally flew the coop. Forty-five minutes after scheduled departure, we were on our way to Miami.

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