We’re on our way to Paris, Sheamus’s Mexican Company has booked the charter, Mexico City — JFK — CDG, and return. Two planes, 1000 people, total.
This year, France is hosting the world-cup soccer matches, and Paris is packed.
“Seriously, Sheamus, how’d you pull it off?”
“Easy, Rabbi,” he explains. Two planes, round trip, a total of about 50 hours of power. I figure Moe’s costs are about seven grand an hour, so I offer him ten grand an hour, a total for both flights, round off to about $500,000 for the charter. I use my Mexican company’s name.”
“What’s that?”
“Manana Air. Any way it was easy. My partner Paco did the negotiating, so that Nachtomi won’t connect it to me. Paco and I put up $25,000 each, ‘chump change.’ We drafted a contract calling for a 10% deposit, ($50 grand), refundable, if we cancel out more than ten days prior.
Sheamus and his buddy had sold lottery tix in Mexico for $40 U.S. apiece out of the major supermarkets in Mexico City. They promised twenty million Mexicans a chance to fly to Paris to see their beloved Mexican soccer team play in the World Cup matches. These people have never been out of Mexico City before, no less flown to Paris to see the World Cup playoffs. There will be 1000 lucky winners.
We had rules,” Counting on his fingers, “Rule #1 — no suitcases, no baggage, no hotel room.”
“What? How’s that possible, Sheamus?”
“Easy. The deal is that the lucky 1000 wet-backs would fly to JFK —refuel / recrew, fly to Paris, get on buses and be taken directly to the soccer arena. After the game, it’s back on the buses, back to the plane and the flight home, period!”
“How much did the soccer tickets in Paris cost?”
We picked up 1000 cheap seats for $20,000 total. Nobody wanted to see Mexico play!”
“Yeah, except your Mexicans!”
“Got that right, Rabbi! We started selling those tickets six months ago. Sold more than 50,000 of those babies, raised $2,000,000 in no time. We gave the supermarkets $2 a ticket for selling them. $500 grand for the planes, 20 grand for the busses. So, we netted 1 million four.
I’ve got about $700,000 U.S. dollars waiting for me in Mexico City. “Jesus, Sheamus!”
“Rabbi, the best part was that our original risk, our actual exposure, was only the $50K for the planes, and the $20K for the tickets and buses. The rest came out of receipts, even the $50K would have been refundable if the tickets didn’t sell well in Mexico City.”
“So you and your partner had an actual exposure of what, only $12,000 each?”
“Got that right, Rabbi…. Stevie, do you know the difference between a speculator and an investor?”
No Sheamus, but you’ll tell me.”
“I’m an Investor…. all the other guys are Speculators!”
Serious now, I ask, “So what’re you gonna do with your $700,000, retire?”
“Well, there is a slight hang up, so I’m not sure yet about timing my retirement.”
“What’s the slight hang-up, Sheamus?”
“I can’t seem to get in touch with my partner, Paco.”
“What’s Paco’s last name?”
“Rodriquez something, or Gonzales something…”
“Oh.”
When we arrive, Paris is ecstatic. The timing of our 48 hour layover includes France winning the World Cup, and the Bastille Day celebration in one shot. France explodes in double celebration, and we join the jubilant crowds on the Champs Elysee, cheering the bus carrying their hero soccer team. An outpouring of millions of people, greater than the liberation of Paris during World War II. Sheamus is “up,” having fully recovered from his riches to rags descent. We have great big bowls of garlic mussels at a favorite restaurant, fabeyeux!
Next week, back in New York, Sheamus is trying to get me to invest in a new venture… Its seed money, baby, just chump change.”
“How much are you talking about, Sheamus?”
This during a five minute break from Recurrent Ground School training, two boring days of torture, conducted by Engineer-cum-asshole Bruce Quinn, everybody’s “hero.” Word about Bruce’s inability to tell whether the gear was down and locked going into Islamabad, had traveled quickly. This class he was just slightly less of an asshole, apparently embarrassed that everybody knew about his “incident.”
It seems that Sheamus is in lust again, another Indonesian Kupu-kupu he met on the last Hajj. He’s keeping her in a Hotel in Kuala Lumpur, and has lost a ton of flesh, he’s down to dating weight. He pulls me close, we’re now alone in the hallway, whispering, “I’m thinking of bringing her into the country, down to Miami, and into my home. Tell my wife that she’s the new maid, just got her from some Indonesian Au Pair service. Rabbi, I talk to her every day on the phone….I’m teaching her three new words a day…. today’s words were ‘dog,’ cat,’ and ‘blowjob’.”
“You’re not a real pilot, Sheamus.”
“What?” Sheamus taken aback.
“That’s right. A real pilot would bring the girl into his home and tell the wife that now she (the wife) is the cleaning lady.” I turn back to the classroom as I watch Sheamus’ mouth drop open.