I went on a cross country flight with a student of mine last night/this morning to Addison, TX (near dallas). I'm not quite sure why, but they gave us a Jaguar as a courtesy car. We met my brother there, and the conversation went something like this:
Rob: What's up, Joo? You guys got a car?
Me: Yeah, it's that white Jag over there...
(silence)
Rob: Who's idiotic idea was that?
This thing was loaded. Leather, sunroof, dual climate control, only 8,000 miles, and a moving map GPS that gave audible directions to anywhere in the yellow pages. Not quite a conversation, but it went something like this:
GPS: Approaching hard left turn.
Justin: This thing is sweet.
GPS: Hard left turn.
Justin: Oops!
GPS: Turn missed.
Justin: I know!
GPS: Turn missed.
Justin: Shut up, bitch!
Quite hilarious. We partook of a small but enjoyable culinary experience and headed back to the aeropuerto. Upon arriving, the lady behind the FBO counter told us that "Fat Joe" was due in any minute now. Rob and I had quizzical looks, as did my student's girlfriend, but Justin knew exactly who this guy was. Nothing like watching about ten thugs pile off a twenty-million dollar jet airplane. We walked right through the lot of them and the body guards (I assume) started heading our way. I just gave them a "who the F are you?" stare and proceeded to our trusty Wichita-born steed. I love making famous people not feel famous.
Jeff C.
