THE VERY RICH
TRAVEL DIFFERENTLY
Let me tell you about the very rich who travel by air differently from
you and me.
I know. That’s a paraphrase from a Scott Fitzgerald
1926 story. That known story was told some
one hundred years ago by The Great Gatsby.
Here is how Ernest
Hemingway allegedly responded, “Yes, they have more money.”
# # #
Disclaimer: I’ve under
my belt about 2,200 commercial flight boardings. So I got some air travel
experience.
Commercial aviation is
a cattle call designed by sadists to strip us of whatever shreds of human
dignity we brought past the terminal sliding glass doors. You know the drill:
the stale odor of defeat, shuffling shoeless on cold linoleum, arms raised in a
glass cylinder while a stranger debates whether your belt buckle constitutes a
tactical threat.
Forget all that.
What’s in it for you as
you keep reading?
There are different
ways to travel. First, avoid O’Hare. My
buddy Chuck and I took a hard left turn away from the misery industry of
commercial airlines, and pulled up to Atlantic Aviation terminal on the
backside of Chicago Midway Airport.
The moment we cross the threshold, the harsh fluorescent reality of standard air travel simply cease to exist. It’s an alternate dimension paved with deep-pile carpet, hushed voices, and floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over acres of polished tarmac.
Chuck stopped dead in
his tracks, looked around the lounge like he was waiting for the house bouncer
to toss us out into the street, and muttered:
"Man, this place is strictly how the rich
and famous fly."
He wasn't overstating. Nothing
we are used to.
No TSA goon demanding
our liquids, no barking into megaphones, no invasive pat-downs that violating
the Geneva Conventions. Instead, a guy in a blue jacket welcomes, smiles, takes
my dude pouch with the reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts, and
treats us like a visiting head of state.
No line to stand in. No metal detector. We are seated in leather
armchairs, sip cold Frappuccino, and breathe air that smells like money and
quiet privilege. We watch through the glass walls the scant commercial air
traffic.
Ten minutes later, we
were personally escorted out across the tarmac to a little four-seater, fixed-wing
bird. It’s considered safer than a chopper in my opinion.
No “Now boarding group six”
loud announcement. No fighting over the overhead bin with a sweaty guy
clutching a bag of greasy fast food. Just
a one step-ladder, four leather seats, (pilot &three passengers). Chuck gets the back row to himself; helpful for
better photos shooting.
And the low, throaty
rumble of a prop winding up.
Before the rest of the
herd at Midway had even cleared the metal detectors, we were banking hard over
Lake Michigan, looking down at the steel and concrete spine of Chicago glowing
in the noontime sun.
The pilot pointed
out the panorama. Down there, millions were grinding it out in gridlock. Up
here, we had the whole blue sky to ourselves.
The rich don’t just
travel ritzier. They live in a different slipstream.
Actually the price is
right. The jaunt isn’t that expensive.
Once you catch a taste of it, the main
terminal feels like pure purgatory.
If you have questions –
ask me. We are here to help.
www.mandylender.net www.attractome.com www.themasterattractor.com
Tags: #airtravel #atlanticaviation #chicago
#aerialtour #scottfitzgerald #ernesthemingway
