This week, United Airlines had the unmitigated gall to reject a therapy peacock from one of its planes. Loyal Scaiaholics know I’ve weighed in several times on how far we’ve come as a society.

But the concept of a therapy peacock is a new one. Luckily, a website had the sense to post pictures online.

United has since put out a statement explaining it rejected the peacock because it did not meet guidelines for weight and size of a therapy animal. United had to put out a statement defending its decision not to let a peacock on board. This will probably become part of the course of study for students learning to work in public relations: some day, you may have to defend yourself against a peacock.

In addition to Loyal Scaiaholics recalling Kids Today are ruining everything, you’ll also recall I don’t care for heights.

Back when I lived in Oregon, I would vacation occasionally in Las Vegas.

Associates from college and I would meet in Vegas a couple times a year. For my first trip, I decided to drive because I was going to get to the bottom of this Area 51 situation.

In Rachel, Nevada, I found what I suspect to be the largest number of souvenir shops per capita of any town in the United States. From that point on, I deemed it acceptable to fly.

The flight from Portland to Las Vegas is only a couple hours, but the route flies over the Cascades, so it was often bumpy because of the… because of the wind shooshing up the mountain or something. I minored in meteorology. As a scientist, I’m calling that a reasonable explanation.

The Washington Post has reported a spike in the number of service animals being brought on planes.

As a man who’s afraid of heights, I needed support on those routes, too. So it was perfectly natural I needed to demand a therapy animal. In this case, I explained to the ticket agent I would need to bring a Therapy Showgirl.

She would be most comfortable in her natural habitat, wearing a a bikini and high heels, waving around palm fronds suggestively on the plane. You know, to put me at ease.

“I bought her a ticket!” I would explain. “And those palm fronds fold up and can fit under the seat in front of her! If you don’t allow my Therapy Showgirl on this flight, that is discrimination.”

Back in the day, a couple of us college hot-heads lived in California when I lived in Oregon, so it was easier to organize everyone. Now, though, we’re more spread out. One of us, and I’m not naming names here, thought it’d be a good idea to move away from the West Coast, so we don’t get to Vegas as often as we used to.

I am happy, though, to offer help to anyone who might need therapy to get on a plane. Here’s a template for a note you can show the airline for a Therapy 12-Pack. Just cross out my name and write yours in. I’m sure that’ll work. When you show this to the ticket agent, just make sure you explain that, even after 12 drinks, you suspect you’re still easier to handle than a freakin’peacock. Just make sure you really hit the word, freakin’.