How I Got My Own Private Jet to Vegas to Meet My Sugar Daddy

As fall turned into win­ter, I was sev­eral months into my new life. I stayed busy, trav­el­ing. I planned my days around the man in the Stet­son hat. He would pro­vide me his busi­ness travel sched­ule on the first of the month. I met him wher­ever his busi­ness dic­tated. I did not bother to unpack my suit­case. I sim­ply switched out cloth­ing and was off on the next trip.

My son was away at col­lege. The days when I wasn’t trav­el­ing were filled with shop­ping. I lost my house, my car, and my job in the divorce. I leased a new home, bought a new car, and was pick­ing out fur­ni­ture to stay busy. I was often lonely, but I had finally closed the lucra­tive deal.

The trav­el­ing pro­vided some of the most won­der­ful expe­ri­ences of my life. I was often able to bring my best friend along. On one such trip, we attended the Keeneland Horse Auc­tion. It was beyond my wildest imag­i­na­tion. I was fas­ci­nated with horse rac­ing, and to be a part of the Keeneland Auc­tion was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

We met and lunched with sev­eral world-renowned thor­ough­bred horse train­ers. The Sheikhs of Dubai attended the auc­tion, as well. Across the high­way from the auc­tion, the Sheikhs of Dubai parked each of their 747 air­planes. Rumor had it that they were both fined $10,000 since the run­way was not equipped for such large air­crafts. We passed the Sheikhs and their entourage sev­eral times through­out the day.

This after­noon, Van­ity Fair was tak­ing pic­tures near us. I was con­cerned a pho­to­graph would end up being pub­lished. How­ever, he didn’t seem to be the slight­est bit appre­hen­sive. It wasn’t too many months later that we were pho­tographed, and it was indeed published.

When we were together, I had the time of my life. One of the dis­ad­van­tages of dat­ing a mar­ried man is they spend the hol­i­days with their fam­ily. I spent Thanks­giv­ing and Christ­mas with my son. Since he had plans for New Year’s Eve, I decided to meet my best friend in Las Vegas to cel­e­brate. We would ring in the New Year on a black­jack table.

My best friend flew out to Las Vegas one day early. I was very excited to get there and begin our girls’ week. I arrived at the air­port in the Mid­west. Since I was early, I checked in at the gate and was informed the plane would be late. So I ven­tured to the bar for some pre-game drinks. I watched the time closely. I walked back to the gate at the time the air­line employee told me the plane would board.

Upon arrival at the gate, the jet­way door was clos­ing. I was shocked. This had never hap­pened to me before. I just assumed they would open the door and allow me on the plane. How­ever, that was not the case. The door was closed and would stay closed. There was no way I was going to give up going to Vegas.

I decided then and there that I would do what­ever it took to get there. When I asked what to do, they sent me to the ticket counter. I was informed there were no avail­able flights to Las Vegas or any­where near Las Vegas until after New Year’s.

I was in panic mode. I had to get to Las Vegas. I could not fathom spend­ing New Year’s alone in the Mid­west. I called my best friend. Of course, she was already gam­bling. I pulled her off the table, and we put our heads together. We decided I would char­ter a plane. She called every­where to find one. There were no avail­able char­ter air­crafts. She finally found a med­ical air­craft out of Dal­las. She per­suaded them to fly me to Las Vegas.

The air­craft arrived within an hour or so. I boarded the plane and gig­gled. No one would believe this story. The plane had one long seat in the back. It had space for a gur­ney and built-in intra­venous (IV) poles. It wasn’t your aver­age pri­vate jet. It was every­thing but lux­u­ri­ous. How­ever, it would get the job done.

Since I was pay­ing a small for­tune, they attempted to make my flight com­fort­able. The crew brought along an ice­box full of drinks. I didn’t drink any­thing. The hos­pi­tal smell made me sick to my stom­ach. Thank­fully, it was a short ride to Las Vegas.

The com­mer­cial air­craft I was sched­uled to fly in on had one stop. I arrived before my lug­gage! Upon land­ing, we were met by air­port per­son­nel. They asked me if I needed an ambu­lance. My reply was, “No, but I need a limo!” I am sure the air­port employee was shocked to see that I was very healthy and ask­ing for a limo. My nearly $16,000 one-way flight to Las Vegas had been worth every dol­lar. It was the begin­ning of another great girls’ week. Thank good­ness, I had closed that lucra­tive deal with the man in the Stet­son hat.