Growing up I was a frequent flyer. My parents were divorced. I lived in New York and my father lived in California. By the early 1980s I was taking several cross country flights each year, though I didn’t join a frequent flyer program for the first time until 1990. It was American AAdvantage – before a trip to Australia – and those miles expired. My account went dormant and my current AAdvantage account only dates to 1996.
I was well into my professional career before I ever had the opportunity to fly private. But I almost got the chance during one of my West Coast trips when I was 12.
The story begins with another odd experience of mine. I may have been one of the first white boys in the mid-80s to use ‘187’ as a term for murder. Most people only learned this from Dr. Dre’s 1992 debut solo song “Deep Cover” after the breakup of NWA.
My father’s family was in the car business. One of the customers was (as I understood it at the time) the biggest drug dealer in Oakland. The guy loved specialty cars, and my father managed to get him a Zimmer.
The man used to have boxes of cash in his trunk which always seemed nuts to me if he got pulled over but presumably he was paying off enough people in positions of authority that this did not happen. He referred to his boys, his crew, as his ‘187 Squad’. This was ~ 1986.
The Zimmer was being delivered in LA, He didn’t want to drive down to get it with his 187 Squad, so my dad told him he should charter a plane and make it a party heading down. Bear in mind this was before Netjets launched fractional jet ownership and before on-demand private flight services.
I was sitting in my father’s office. The guy says “yeah, why don’t you take care of it and you guys come along?” My dad and me!
My father assumes he’s kidding, but an hour later he gets a call from the guy’s wife, “Hello, this is Shirley. How big a plane are you gonna get, because I want to go too!”
I’m just visiting my dad. My parents are divorced. You can see him doing the calculation. He’d totally go! But there’s no way he can take me on a private jet with a drug dealer and not face consequences. I’m just going on 12. So I missed my first shot at flying private!
Interesting story but I’m confused
Who was paying for the charter? The customer or your dad?
The way I’m reading it your dad suggested it, implying the customer could pay for it, and the customer then turned the tables and suggested your dad take care of it. Does ‘take care of it’ mean pay for the flight, or just find and schedule it?
@greg – find it and schedule it (and probably pay and get reimbursed, since the customer drove around with six figures in cash in his trunk)
Gary, u are killing me. U already bring it day in day out and now you lately are telling relatable tales. Top it off with your accessibility. Respect
This blog is fire.
Too bad we didn’t know you. I am sure my family would have gotten a better deal from your Dad then they did on the POS Plymouth Valiant they purchased from Hartzheim.
I first flew private with a friend who had a pilot’s license. I think we flew to Harris Ranch for lunch. I have also flown on Steve Wynn’s high roller plane (though on a biz trip, not for gambling) and on Dash-8 (on my former job).
I try to avoid private jets now as the death rate is higher than on mainline Boeing and Airbus products. Though I would take it over a 737 MAX any day.
I agree, Tim. Kudos to Gary.
Gary, Keeping it “G” in “Ghost Town” it seems. Fun story.
Back in the 1980’s my elderly Grandmother sold off some of her property including an old cabin with several acres of shoreline on Lake of the Ozarks to a guy from “out of town”. She and the family wondered why a person would want to buy this really rural property and pay for it with a briefcase full of cash. My Grandmother lived through the Depression and liked the cash as she distrusted banks. Later that same person was busted for flying drugs in from Mexico using seaplanes on the lake. The 1980s was a fun time.