Private Jet ToiletJet private toilet
e. our fucking customer.
This is the most awkward private jet flight of all times.
Described as a road show, the group will usually travel to tens of towns with busy schedules, so a private jet is the means of transport of choice. They pamper their customers every single evening with a savage evening in every city they are in, full of a thousand dollars of dinner and unlimited liquor.
Regardless of how much the group party the evening before may be, the private jet will bring you to your next goal very early the next day. For just a moment, act as if you were an investor banking professional on the road with some very important customers. Just think of the last time you drank well over your limits, only to be frightened out of your sleep by a penetrating 6:30 wake-up call.
To make your mind and your bodies look good again, sip a waffle, egg, bacon and at least two drinks of coffe at the hotel's continental spring break before boarding the private bus to the private airfield. You may be a little relieved at this point when the blurring of the early hours of the day fades.
The only thing you have to do is lean back and unwind for a one-hour plane ride to the next town. It'?s the most awkward private jet ride ever: A little more than half the way through the plane, all the caffeine in my abdomen felt like it was finding its way down into my lower bowel.
Something that sounds like an hours, but is probably no longer than twenty minute, goes by. l send a beacon to the stewardess and she walks towards me. "I ask while still putting a lot of effort into the fight against what still felt like someone shaking a Selters and shoving it into my butt.
can see the fright in her face as she points to the back of the car anxiously. Bathroom is there. Wait a moment and my face will be relieved. Says she, "If you remove the pad from this chair, it is underneath. There' a little blinds that go up around him, but that's all.
Our "toilet seat" is filled by the CFO, i.e. our customer. Until that time no one had watched my fight or my replacement with the cabintain. Now I had to take off the blanket - not an easier job if you can hardly keep standing up, get thrown around a gangster rat bloc and fight a gastro-intestinal Mt Vesuvius.
To find a rather luxury looking chest of drawers with a beautiful black birch or nut wood setting, I pull the back of the lease sofa. Maybe it was the realisation that I would take the maidenhood of this toilet with a rage and ferocity that was atrocious for its fine workmanship and workmanship and quality.
Going down and pulling up the screening walls, I only have a few seconds before breaking out. Feeling like I'm having a seizure, I'm pressing so harshly to end the release, the tortured exalted release. Visibility protection remains directly around the shoulders. I' m there, a bodiless mind, in the back of the airplane, on a hunchback for a toilet while I look my coworkers, rivals and customers straight in the eye.
For him or the others, and by others I mean top-class associates and customers, it was practically impracticable to turn away their sight. I am so sorry" is all the embarrassed, bodiless mind can say... over and over again. Hopefully, if you happened to be in a private jet that has to use the bath, the inside will look more like this: