How to travel by private jet

Step 1 - Find the hanger. Not as simple as one might think. Having left the instructions printed and laid out on my desk, I could remember third something and look for AAR. I pull up to the first gate with no phone and no signs of life. Building says AAR, but no hanger in sight. I backup and try again. Second time a charm. AAR on hanger. Clearly should have read between the lines of "Will say AAR". Or remembered directions...you know, either way.

Step 2 - Board plane. Far more simple than one might think. Forget security, no TSA screeners here. No id needed. No scanning of shoes. I walk towards the plane, greeted by the pilot halfway. He tells me that everyone is waiting and assuming he is joking, I laugh. Sure enough, I am the last one on board. Obviously faulty instructions to blame.

Step 3 - Find seat. Not hard when you are the last one on plane and plane consists of 14 seats. My seat was at the table. Yes, table. This is where it starts to get executive. As I search for buckle, stewardess offers to take my coat and get me something to read. Thought crossed my mind of asking for something businesslike but realized I would then have to read something businesslike and declined. Besides, my table consisted of two Vogues and a People. Persons far too like me to be impressed by my reading of the Times.

Step 4 - Survive 14 passenger plane ride to east coast. Shortly after takeoff we are presented with warm nuts. Who knew that warmth is all it takes to get the nut from the bar to the board room. Still, I'll leave warm nuts to the wealthy and keep to my low class cold and salted roots. After nuts came sandwich meal. Sandwich, ok. Scary brown stuff in black container, don't know...didn't try. I'm a complete food snob that way. At every turn there was a refreshed drink or cookie tray. For the time conscious passenger, flat screens giving the moment by moment progress of the plane. Air speed. Ground speed. Head wind. Tail wind. Distance to closest city. Distance to destination city. Air temperature outside. Did you know that it is -41 at 30,000 ft? Good to know in case one of us had been contemplating opening a window.

Step 5 - Avoid the bathroom at all costs. On the return trip, warm nuts were replaced by warm towels. Still undecided as to which felt wealthier. Although in fairness, having had one too many cokes, I was too busy weighing how long was appropriate post takeoff before sprinting to the bathroom to really take in the latter. So I make it to the bathroom using my most nonchalant I just might pee my pants walk, barge in and find a bench to my left, a sink to my right and a door straight ahead. Figuring that this must be the sitting room, we are in a private plane after all, I head for the door and start to pull. No give. Not to be deterred, I pull harder and then see and unlock the latch. Still stuck and seemingly unexecutive to have accessing the toilet this hard, me and my overextended bladder give it one last put your weight into it pull. Finally a pop and it gives. Crap, crap, crap. I've just unlocked and opened the luggage compartment. First thought. Did I just set some alarm off in the cabin? Visions of captain and stewardess breaking through bathroom door. Second thought. Freakin' heck, this door won't close. So there I stand in my executive private plane frantically trying to shut the door that I just jimmied open. Praying that the situation doesn't end with excuse me, would you mind helping me close the cargo bay door? Finally succeeding to close the door and giving up on locking the latch, I turn towards the bench, reach towards the leather cushion and pull. Right. The hidden toilet. The nemesis of passengers from the world of questionably cleaned toilets in heavily inscribed stalls, more likely to be found without working locks than any measure of hide and seek. The toilet paper, you say? Nope. That, too, was hidden in a compartment nearby. The two defining attributes of wealthy. Apparently warm and hidden.

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Step 6 - Survive landing. The home airport had been closed due to fog but we forged ahead. Executives get their way no matter the weather. Read: this is why people on small planes are the ones that die. It was those twenty minutes I was most aware of the plane size. The drop that was fast enough to raise the liquid from our glasses was when I considered at what point they tell you that you are going to die. Do they make an announcement or just figure you will realize it when you burst into a ball of flames? Still, we made it in one piece, only to have the captain come out and say that someone back there must have been good that we made it through that. Announcements are bad...go with ball of flames.