People who own jets have to have pissed off a couple of people along the way...

Posted by: Tammy | Category:

You just can't have a jet without having stood on a few big toes. Unless you are my dad's 150kg financial advisor (aka Mr Money Penny) who splashed out on a jet trip to the Mother City to visit my old man a couple of weekends ago (and proceeded to hand out R200 notes to car-guards because he "didn't have anything smaller"), and has now decided that it is the only route to go. Imagine having your name emblazoned on the side of a Gulfstream G550, which you just hop onto to fly to, say, Sydney to see your friend for the weekend, or to New York to pick up that killer pair of Jimmy Choo heels, OR (this one's for the boys) to Durban with your best mates to watch the Lions match this weekend. Yup, I knew that would get you. You are only human. 

If you're wondering where this train of strange thought is coming from, I shall clarify. My friend Lex - who is not allowed to speak for 4 days because she ordinarily speaks too much and, as a result, has "worn out" her voicebox, Gabs - my very great computer nerd friend - and I, ventured to the Waterfront yesterday to celebrate the last half of the public holiday with a movie viewing. Duplicity was our poison of choice, and although it requires concentration and brain power, none of us were suffering from that too-big-night-before feeling, so really enjoyed it. It had the makings of an Ocean's 11, 12 or 13.

So. The Jets. There's a scene where two competitor cosmetics giants are fighting on the tarmac in front of their sleek, innocent two-winged beauties. And that's when the thought came to me. People who own jets have to have pissed off a couple of people along the way.

That is all.