Moving past peanuts to champagne served in REAL glasses is the first level out of Flying Hell. You know that place- Flying Hell- where you wait in an airport all night for the privilege of boarding a cattle car with hundreds of other people to finally arrive in Europe stiff, groggy, and feeling slightly sick? 


Complaining is out of the question these days. No one wants the “We’re not going to make trouble are we?” ultimatum. Moving up to champagne class must be Flying Heaven.


Not so, Obi Wan.


Last weekend I met up with a handful of friends including several British bankers in Las Vegas for a birthday party. The first two days were filled with Forum shopping, desert hiking, Tao food and table service. On day three we all looked at each other blankly because we seemed out of fun things to do. Ironically, none of us cared about gambling. Someone mentioned, “Do you ski?” and the next thing I know we are all in a limo headed for Jackson Hole? Now that’s a long drive, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. It was a pretty big car. I worried a little about work on Monday…


After just a few minutes we were parked next to this beautiful sleek private jet in a dazzling shade of blue. We went inside and were greeted by an entire crew whose sole purpose in life was to make us comfortable and happy. No orders to stay seated and no cheap champagne. Instead there was a fully stocked bar, fresh squeezed orange juice and a gourmet breakfast.


Years ago, my uncle Bob had a plane and I hated it. My uncle’s plane was loud and it bumped up and down like the flying Dumbo ride at Disneyland. Not so the private jet. The ride was smooth as silk and we got there so quickly. The attendant Kim handed out ski gear and before long we were off on the slopes of Jackson having an amazing day. At about 4 the limo picked us back up and we got right back into the plane and headed “home” to Vegas. We even slept on the ride back to arrive refreshed and ready to dance the night away. At dinner one of my Vegas friends asked me, “Where have you been?”

“Jackson Hole.” She just nodded her head vaguely like we had disappeared for a day into a space warp. I now think of it as Flying Heaven.


I’ll gladly take a Private Jet Charter any time with a group of friends. Maybe the next time will be to London?