Lisa
By eight that Tuesday morning the seven passenger phenom 300 private jet was already soaring in the skies of fort canon city that looked like a tiny shiny object on the ground. We were seated across each other in the comfy high-quality cream colored leather seats, between us was a fine wood hand crafted round dining table with a bottle of champagne that only I was drinking, he was barred from drinking such by his cook and doctor just hours to the match, there was a glass of water for him.
Beside us was another set of seats and behind us was a coach with small pillows which also served as a bed. The floor was carpeted in beige matching the ceiling while the body was white as snow. There was a bathroom and a small kitchen, mini-bar equipped with an air hostess dressed in a navy blue
