I enjoy the opportunity, every once in a while, to hobnob with those who commandeer their own private jets, but are also prone to whimsy when it comes to their schedules. After all, if you can snap your fingers at the pilot should the desire to have a New York pizza seize you, or the missus want a front seat at the Paris Fashion Week, why should you be anchored to a single spot? Some have literally disappeared on scheduled conversations because they found the city air too polluted, while another balked at the idea of spending any more time
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