Are you related to Mr. Bean?

Confession: my favorite stuffed animal has taken every international trip I have. This includes: Kenya, Germany, Mexico, Uganda, Canada, Austria, Britain. But. I have an excuse. He makes a perfect neck pillow. No need to buy a $30 airplane pillow when you have owned an even better option since you were four.

Up until this point, my stuffed-animal-flights have remained a secret. I like it that way. But now its public. In a British accent, our steward informed the entire cabin that I have a teddy bear. (Which, its not a teddy – its actually a dog. But that is beside the point.)

Teddy (we’ll keep his true name and identity a secret) wasn’t as well hidden as I wanted him to be. I had just gotten back to my seat, so he was on my lap instead of around my neck. And his head was peeking out from under my blanket.

Steward was coming by with the drink cart as he saw teddy, announced his existence, and then offered: “I’ll get teddy a drink, too.”

“I’d like orange juice, teddy would like water.”

“Half a cup of water for teddy?” he asked, as he handed me the extra cup. “We wouldn’t want teddy to spill it.”

“Oh, and Sarah,” he yelled across the middle section of seats, “do you have an extra sandwich for teddy?”

The other stewardess giggled at me. I probably blushed.

He moved on, I took a sip of the orange juice, thinking myself safe from his ridicule.

“Oh, by the way, are you related to Mr. Bean?”

The orange juice almost ended up on Teddy.