13. People - Lust, Love, Greed, Hate

My New Home © fintag

Seat belt on. Check. Bags in trunk. Check. BlackBerry on. Check. Message From Lawyers. Check. Big Trouble Ahead

There are certain emails we all dread. The subject line looks ominous, the sender is a person in one's little black book and the time sent is always just before lunch. The other dread is being hijacked on the phone by someone telling you there are bad news emails waiting to be read in one's inbox.

I have a rule I break a lot - never take "number withheld calls". If I do by mistake, or for tactical reasons, it is invariably someone I don't want to talk and news I don't want to hear. These are the calls where my reservation at Muranos has been canceled, my dogs have been kidnapped or my 14 year old daughter is pregnant. My next call was much worse.

I settled into my limo and caught the drivers eye. I could feel a conversation coming on. Thankfully my phone rang. The number was withheld.

"Taggit"

"Is that Mr Taggit?"

"I just told you my name. Who is this?"

"It is the personal assistant to MJ"

"Hello, have me met? And how is my favorite lawyer?"

"I started last week. MJ said she will call you this afternoon. She has asked me to call you regarding 2 emails from her. Is that ok? They were sent yesterday around 12 30 p.m."

I said my goodbyes, asked her for lunch of course, and filtered the emails from MJ, a senior partner, at Protect, Paye and Fale. MJ was my equivalent of a handy man. She helped me with contracts, structuring, litigation and matrimonials matters. Second to my now lost P.A., she was my fixer.

The first email had the subject line "re: post divorce asset injunction". I read it intently. My ex-wife had learned of my recent retirement through the sale of Fintag Capital Management and had instructed the courts to seize all my assets to enable them to ascertain my new wealth so my ex wife would not be impoverished in her old age. Having sold my Hedge Fund business, the lawyers were assuming my wealth was tucked away in Cayman island bank accounts and BVI real estate. Which it was.

My first thought was Trading Places.

The second email was even worse. The subject line said "SEC investigation". Apparently an ex employee had blown the whistle and trumped up some allegations regarding my role in the demise of Bear Stearns, AIG and Washington Mutual." as documented in the public domain on my old blog site fintag.com.

My second thoughts were Bonfire of Vanities.

So here I was with an ex-wife grabbing assets that the SEC would soon be confiscating from her under some money laundering, inside trading malpractice charge. And where would I be in all of this? A question only my lawyer could answer but it looked my days staying in the Four Starbucks were over.

There was also another email; for as we know buses come in threes. This was sent from Donot Mess Withus lawyers who said they would happily represent me against the SEC.

My third thoughts were Shawshank Redemption.

12. Flying - High As A Kite

Vintage Barbie © fintag

Stools of Fun © fintag

Smile. Check. Smile Check. Resmile. Check

When we had finished, ladies first and all that, I looked up and spoke.

"Compensation received and settlement completed. Don't I know you?"

It was pretty clear she had done this before. She was athletic, tanned and seemed to have been born with no body hair. She was about 30, had a pony tail that flicked around like the tail of a pony, and there was no tell tell sign of a halo mark where a wedding ring may have been. She wasn't your regular crew member and I would test out her tea and bed making skills later.

The space had been tight, the procedure mechanical and the execution ruthless.

She denied any knowledge of knowing me, straightened herself up and opened the door to a world of dozing and sleeping passengers. Another crew member pulled back the polyester curtain into First Class and I went to seat B8, put the huge Bose headphones on, my feet on the stool and surfed the channels.

Seats at the front of the plane often have a companion seat. Its primary use is so a companion can have a meal with you. In reality most passengers use it as a foot stool although it has other uses. In the trade they are called the stools of fun. Think duvet, think Bill Clinton, think omg.

Having flown hundreds of thousands of miles, probably millions, I had never seen the stools of fun being used and could only imagine it was an urban myth. That, or I needed to be more observant. In my time of ozone depletion I had been in the same cabin as Lily Allen, Russell Brand, Hugh Grant and Justin Timberlake - all likely candidates - and I cannot recall the stool of fun being used. Thinking about it, I did fly once with Fiennes who stayed under his duvet most of the time. He either had large feet or was snuggling up with the large teddy he had bought from the duty free catalog.

It is a myth, like my encounter with an escort girl masquerading as a cabin crew member. We often hear about rich business men marrying an air hostess / stewardess / cabin crew member and apparently First Class is a great hunting ground. Apparently. I mean doesn't Prince William date the offspring of such a liaison?

As I skipped through the entertainment channels, reliving the moment I joined the High Mile Club, I suddenly realized who she was. The question I now had to ask was, why had she jacked in a $3000 an hour profession to work on the planes?

The world is such a small place.

11. Flying - Joining The High Mile Club

Yes, yes, yes © fintag

Where is the condom? © fintag

Pony Tail © fintag

Other Passengers Asleep. Check. Lights dimmed. Check. 3:00 am. Check. 4 knocks. Check. Door Opens.

When you are as wealthy as me, you can have whatever you want.

The downside is you start wanting more and more things that are difficult to get, just because they are difficult to get, and like a spoiled child you stamp your feet a lot. The ultra wealthy fight over who has the biggest yacht and although I am not in that league (why would I be flying commercial for starters? Well for starters, private jets have no other people to show off too and that is boring), my material chasing days are over and now I just like the challenge of bending rules. Let's face it I have been in the Hedge Fund business for over 10 years and have been bending the rules for a long time and it is all I know... [Editor: I have the SEC on the phone].

When I checked into the airport, I was denied seat A1. After a great fuss including threatening to have my mates short the airline to its knees, I was offered compensation. Not air miles, not free flights, not future upgrades. This one was the ultimate - a chance to join the high mile club.

Apparently having sex on a plane is illegal in many countries. I had no idea if I would get arrested but since I had been given permission by the airline, Singapore Emirates, I assumed not.

There was no choice in companion but I was assured she was hot whatever that means. Being half asleep and a mile in the sky I wasn't going to be fussy.

It is a misconception that cabin crew are not very interesting people. Take a business class trip on Virgin and instead of watching movies, sit at the bar and order a drink. Strike up conversation and tell the crew you are a writer looking for new angles. The stories I have heard over the years would make you weep with embarrassment but thankfully this story is not one of those.

First things first, I had to prepare. The KY was in my luggage and all I needed was protection. Being in the front of the plane I got leg room, privacy and a nice wash bag. Long gone are the days when you were presented with a shoe bag, a bar of soap and a used toothbrush. Today's bags are designed by Agnes B, Anya Hindmarch, and A.N Other and the contents are samples from trendy stores like old chemists and places the Queen uses. As a hardened traveler I don't care where the moisturizer came from, who designed the ear plugs or why the socks were made for someone with feet size 3; I always hunt for the lip gloss as it tastes so good. In this instance I had another demand - a condom. I didn't find one.

At 3:00 am, clutching my KY, I knocked and the door opened half way.

The light was on and my date was sitting on the lavatory. She had bright red lipstick and her regulation skirt was not where it had been earlier. On the faux walnut surface next to the sink was a small dish with what I had been looking for earlier.

I tossed my gift into the pot and as they say the rest just happened.