MAD DOG: It's a Pig's Life

There's something terribly wrong when pigs are living better than I am. Whether that says more about pigs or me is up for grabs, but to be honest I'd rather not think about it too much since I have a sneaking suspicion I know what the answer is and, like what that stuff in the center of those Krispy Kreme doughnuts is made of, I don't want to hear it.

First there was the pig which flew first class from Philadelphia to Seattle on US Airways back in October. At first glance this isn't unusual, since I've sat next to quite a few pigs while flying. In fact, the airlines' ticketing computers are programmed to seat them next to me. If no pigs have bought tickets, it searches for colicky babies with a certified wail louder than 120 dB, women hauling eight photo albums of their grandchildren which they're certain I want to see, and dudes listening to headphones that are louder than the sound in a movie theater. If none of these are available, it automatically cancels the flight and puts me on the next available one which makes four stops rather than being direct.

The two women who brought the pig on board the US Airways flight somehow managed to convince the airline that the pig was a "therapeutic companion pet," similar to a blind person's seeing-eye dog and Richard Gere's gerbil. Even though they claimed they had a doctor's note, it's hard to figure out what he could have written that would fool anyone. "These women have a pathological need to be close to the only squealing 300-pound animal which isn't playing for the XFL" just doesn't seem like it would pass muster. Not even with a flight attendant.

But it did. The pig sat on the floor in the first row of first class. It was calm and peaceful until they announced that the dinner choices were chicken and roast pork. Just kidding. Actually it didn't get upset until the plane was taxiing towards the terminal in Seattle, where reportedly it ran up and down the aisle squealing. Needless to say, people were upset, but that's only because it got in the way of their jumping up and grabbing their things out of the overhead compartments so they could get off the plane 43 seconds faster.

I've never flown first class, and it doesn't do my self-esteem a lot of good to think that an animal that's better suited to being Easter dinner is being treated better than I am. Unfortunately, this isn't an isolated case. Recently a 150-pound Vietnamese potbelly pig named Smithfield stayed in the Mayflower Hotel in New York. I haven't stayed there, but I strongly suspect it's a nice place since for years I've heard announcers say at the end of TV shows, "Guests of the show stay at the Mayflower Hotel," and I don't think they'd put them up in a place where they ask if you need the room for longer than an hour and have a vending machine on each floor which sells cans of Raid. You know, like the ones I'm used to.

Smithfield was in New York City because he appeared on "Live! With Regis and Kelly." He was there to audition as Kathie Lee's replacement, not realizing that the job had already been filled. Just to show that he wasn't a sore loser, he went on the show and ran through his tricks. He turned around on command, stuck out his tongue, rang a bell, and painted a porcine masterpiece.

Smithfield, you see, is an artistic pig. Maybe that's why he gets to stay in the Mayflower Hotel and is ferried around New York City in a limo while I take the subway to the Motel 5 where I dream about riding in a taxi and stepping up to a Motel 6. His paintings have sold for as much as $1,200 in his hometown of Richmond, Virginia, where he's appeared at the Science Museum; wore a red costume, reindeer antlers, and rang a bell for the Salvation Army at Christmas; and lectures regularly at the University of Richmond School of Economics about pork belly futures. Obviously he hopes his has a future. A long one.