I REMEMBER STARING out the window of my Rockefeller Center office at Warner Brothers in New York, daydreaming about doing feature-film publicity on location instead of being tied to a desk.

Rainbow lory Mango and his owner, Mira Tweti, encountered unexpected turbulence the first time they flew together.

I looked forward to being out of an office – permanently – and to the traveling. Working at great locations, hanging out on movie sets, what could be a better job? What could be more fun?

That was before I got a parrot. Once I got my sweet Mango, a rainbow lory, the guilt of leaving him with a pet sitter for eight to 10 weeks at a time was terrible. I missed him more than I could bear.

For several years, there was a parade of lories in and out of my apartment - all possible companions for Mango. Getting him a friend seemed the obvious way for him to be happy when I was away. They came from pet shops, breeders, you name it. All the birds he liked, I didn’t, and vice versa.

There was Big Boy, who was so big he was like a lory Baby Huey. Big Boy wasn't in the house five minutes before he found everything to get into that Mango hadn't in more than a year of living there. And of course Mango was fascinated with all the new discoveries, so he followed Big Boy wherever he led.

There was Mini (short for mini-Mango because she was smaller and followed him everywhere). There was Kiwi, who sang entire operettas before she lunged to bite you, hard.

Preparing for takeoff
I couldn't take it anymore. I decided that the next time I had to leave home, I would simply take Mango with me. When the call came, it was short notice - I would be leaving in a week to work on a film shooting back east through Christmas and starring Patrick Swayze.

I began to plan. I already had a good carrier for Mango - a leather-trimmed canvas bag with nylon-mesh sides, shoulder strap and handles that I'd bought for $30. It was made for a cat or small dog, but it's perfect for birds. It zippers open at the top and on the sides via drop-down panels.

The bottom has a removable hard board, waterproofed in black vinyl covering for easy cleaning, but I usually line it with a towel. I'd had it customized for Mango at the local hardware store with perches made from dowels for only $1.50 apiece.

I figured Mango could walk back and forth inside the bag and play with his toys. His food dish hung fine on the nylon mesh and I got a screw-on hamster water bottle, so water wouldn't spill if I had to run for a plane, an important consideration because as organized as I am, I'm always late. Especially for flights.

An adult human and one bird, please
I bought Mango his own plane ticket ($60 one way, paid by Universal at my insistence because of the short notice) so he could fly in the cabin with me - I would never let a small bird go in cargo. Plus, a ticket insured that there wouldn’t be any problems bringing Mango on board. Or so I thought.

Mango the rainbow lory travels comfortably in a pet carrier customized with a hamster water bottle and two dowels for perches.

Getting your bird a ticket doesn't buy him a seat. It allows you to keep him under the seat in front of you - or, if you're lucky, on the empty seat next to you.

I had specifically asked for a reservation on the emptiest flight out, which also turned out to be the latest, which was fine with me. I was pleased when I was told the plane was only one-third full.

I requested a seat at the back of the plane, which I was told would be no problem, and the reservation person said she was sure I'd end up with two seats so Mango could sit on the seat next to me. Perfect!

On travel day, I was proud for getting to the airport in plenty of time. As it turned out, it didn’t help, because I could never have predicted the series of events about to unfold.

All went well at the ticket counter. In addition to my luggage, I checked a large box containing Mango's 2-foot by 1½-foot travel cage, which I had filled with his toys, bowls, food, and "bed blanket" (so he could and play and poop on the hotel bed).

I didn't want to take any chances, even though we were headed for Atlanta, a major city. I had no idea how far the nearest well-stocked pet store would be or when I'd get a chance to get to it. And finding lory things is not always easy.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!
I shuffled along toward the gate with laptop and handbag on one shoulder, Mango's case on the other.

I didn't rush, since I had so much time. I talked to Mango all the way down the long terminal to reassure him.

Mango was being good but he wasn't thrilled with the events unfolding before him. In his sweet high-pitched cartoon-character voice he kept repeating the phrase he uses when he thinks he's done something wrong: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"No sweetie, it’s fine, you didn't do anything wrong," I replied, to lots of strange looks from fellow travelers.

When I got to the gate I was relieved to see there wasn't a soul in sight but the smiling flight attendant waiting to take my ticket. As I handed it to her, she said, "Gee, you're just making it. We were about to take off."

I was stunned. The plane wasn't supposed to leave for another 15 minutes. She said I was getting the last seat on what was now a packed flight. All the other flights to Atlanta had been canceled due to bad weather and all the passengers had been put on my plane, the last one out.

Some people already had been waiting for seven hours. They were hungry and angry about the turn of events. And here I came, with a bird and an armful of stuff.

I bumped every elbow and stepped on every foot as I winded my way down the narrow aisle. But I didn't have far to go. My seat was up front – in the fourth row and on the aisle! I stopped dead, staring in horror.

The flight attendant, desperate to get me seated and the plane out of the airport, came over. I explained that I was supposed to be in the back - way in the back - and at a window.

But when we looked at my ticket, that's not what it said. It said fourth row, aisle. I hadn't even checked it. All eyes were on me now. I gave up and sat down, trying to get settled as quickly as possible.

I put Mango under the seat in front of me and he began whistling in a louder voice at the new developments. I stood up and opened a couple of the overhead storage compartments, looking for a place to stash my stuff. Immediately half a dozen people shouted, "There’s no room in those!"

I sat back down. With my laptop and bag piled on my lap and Mango at my feet, I buckled my seatbelt and prepared to settle in for what would surely be the most uncomfortable flight of my life.

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