Selling Airborne Opulence to the Upper Upper Upper Class

At 6-foot-7, Robbins could not begin to stand fully upright in any non-bizliner plane, but the Global came close, and he had to reduce himself by only a head to make his way past the couch and the sideboard to the rear of the cabin. About a minute with Robbins is enough to convince anyone that his size is actually a practical matter of spatio-energetic prerequisite: Any smaller vessel would simply disintegrate at the slightest vent of his life force. (View Highlight)

When I arrived at the private terminal, I was supposed to look for a tail number that included, as many registrations do, the owner’s initials. That task was made considerably easier by the fact that the plane — the size of a building and bone-white against the wildfire-smoked sky — was emblazoned with a modestly stylized “TR” monogram. It was also the only aircraft there, just sitting on the apron slightly askance, the way you might hurriedly park at midnight in an otherwise empty lot. (View Highlight)