Free Flying with the Rich and Famous: True Stories from the Flight Attendant who flew with them by Patricia Reid Page B

began to putthe rest of the groceries away. With all that I had been through, I was still ready over an hour early.
    Our first stop was Anchorage, Alaska for fuel and to change pilots, but I stayed with the plane. You couldn’t have torn me out anyway, no way. Roger Penske was just as he had been before: very gracious and polite—like the sweet neighbor kid who lived next door when you were growing up, except this guy is smart, exceptionally intelligent with a never-ending zest for life, and a ginormous bank account. He used the plane like a hotel. We flew at night while he slept, and when we arrived in a new city, he was ready to conquer the world, or at least the Pacific part of the world.
    One of the countries we visited was Jakarta, Indonesia. On the drive from the airport to the hotel, I saw overwhelming poverty. There were dilapidated buildings, rundown shacks and people loitering about everywhere, especially children. But when we arrived at the hotel, everything changed.
    In Asia, there is a keycard box inside your room. Put the card in and the power turns on; remove it and it turns off. You cannot waste electricity. When I put my keycard in the box, the drapes slowly opened outward, the stereo came on low, the lights came on dim, and the television came on with no sound. It was late at night and I was perplexed. Gradually, I became mesmerized by my surroundings. The room was glowing with ambience; there was a huge bathtub to my right and a separate shower to my left. I was standing in the middle of an enormous bathroom, yet I hadn’t entered the bedroom. It was a long elevator ride up, but I wasn’t expecting such a view. It was magnificent, a spectacular surprise and an awe-inspiring moment never to be repeated. I ordered a glass of wine from room service, sat at the desk and wrote myself a note reminding myself why I do this, forsaking my family and personal life. When we finally made our way to the Gold Coast of Australia, Mr. Penske was off to the Australian Grand Prix and the pilots and me to ourhotel. Thirty minutes after I walked into my hotel room, there was a knock on my door. It was a special delivery—Roger Penske had given each of us full credentials to the race! We watched it from his suite directly over the track, all the while schmoozing with his friends and colleagues. When we wandered down into the pits, he immediately acknowledged us and introduced us to all kinds of people, and we sort of hung out with him. We had a blast, and it was an outstanding day.
    On our return flight to Long Beach we had to stop for fuel in Pago Pago, American Samoa. As we began our approach, the beauty of the island became clear. The forest green of the rising volcano contrasts with the flat, incredibly white sand beaches and bright blue, crystal clear ocean. The runway was parallel to the ocean and it looked as if the waves were going to lap up and over it. I would have loved to spend the night and explore the island, but all we did was get off and walk around to stretch our legs. Someday I intend to go back.
    Once in the air again, I adjusted all the seats to make sleeping berths for my four passengers. That left nowhere for me to sit or sleep, except my jump seat, which is very uncomfortable for sleeping. Eventually, I rearranged all the briefcases in the forward closet, took the coats off of the hangers, padded them around the brief cases and sat down. I was out. I slept, as did my four passengers, almost the entire way to Honolulu. It had been a long trip and everyone was exhausted. When I awoke, I had to pry my butt off the briefcases; somehow it had adhered. Awaiting us in Honolulu were two fresh pilots because the others were dead tired and in need of a long rest.
    I had been home about a week from this trip when there was a knock on my front door. I opened it and was greeted by another special delivery. This one was a huge box with an envelope from Roger Penske. He had written a letter to me and the pilots