Frequent Flier: An Unhappy Meal and an Aborted Business Trip - Frequent Flier





I WAS going to go into academics, but then decided to serve the marketing machine by going into public relations. A lot of my travel involves conferences, speaking engagements and, of course, pitching new business and meeting with existing clients.







Jason Schlossberg, a partner in the public relations agency Kwittken & Company, in Kyoto, Japan, last year. He still looks forward to flying.





Q. How often do you fly for business?


A. Three to four times a month, a mix of domestic and international.


Q. What’s your least favorite airport?


A. Charles de Gaulle in Paris. It’s just a big monstrosity and very confusing.


Q. Of all the places you’ve been, what’s the best?


A. Everywhere I go is usually my favorite. But if I have to choose, I’d say Tokyo. It’s like being on another planet. The food, culture and people are amazing. Plus, I speak Japanese, but only as well as a smart third grader.


Q. What’s your secret airport vice?


A. I fly in and out of Logan Airport in Boston a lot and will push my flight back just so I can stop at Legal Sea Foods and have a lobster roll and a Sam Adams.





Even though the airlines are doing everything in their power to make me hate flying, I still get excited about getting on a plane.


I used to be a D.J., and still do it on occasion. A few years ago, I would leverage my business trips to Chicago, Tokyo and Miami, all places where we had clients, into D.J. gigs by checking out the D.J. message boards for open slots in these cities. It was a great way to break the ice with clients.


Sometimes I travel with colleagues, but there’s always this unspoken agreement that plane time is alone time. My business partner took that to a new level.


For several years, we had a client in the Napa Valley. We always held our meetings on a Monday. It was a great place to go, and when I traveled alone, I would leave New York early on a Sunday, land in San Francisco, and drive up to Napa. I’d have a great dinner, and some wine. That’s the way to start a business trip.


But my business partner looks at travel as more of a chore. He’s a workaholic, but hates sacrificing family time because of business travel. So when we traveled together to Napa, he always insisted on taking the last flight out of New York on Sunday night. That left no time to enjoy Napa.


At the start of one Napa trip, we got to Kennedy Airport a little late, and neither of us had eaten. So I grabbed a quick meal at a deli before it was time to board, and my partner went to a fast-food place.


After finishing my meal, such as it was, I got on the plane and looked for my partner. We were supposed to be seated a few rows apart. I didn’t see him. I got myself settled, and then my phone went off.


It was my partner telling me he had been kicked off the flight. I asked him how that was possible since we weren’t boarding for that long. I thought he was kidding. I thought he just wanted out of traveling. I mean, this guy is not the type of guy to get kicked off a plane.


But apparently, his fast-food meal quickly disagreed with him, and he had some stomach difficulties. To make matters worse, he appears to have a little quirk that happens any time he gets nauseous. Basically, he kind of whimpers, or screams, depending on how you define the loud noise that he was emitting, in between his bouts of nausea. I couldn’t believe it. It was the strangest thing I ever heard. It’s not like he has a disease. He’s a healthy guy.


The flight attendants and fellow passengers weren’t happy with him. Not only did they have to deal with a guy who was getting sick in his seat, but also one who was loud. Very loud. They probably thought there wasn’t enough Pepto-Bismol on the plane, let alone the planet, to help him. He was escorted off.


I told him I knew he didn’t like traveling, but this was ridiculous. And then, I couldn’t stop laughing. He and I are still business partners, and friends.


We still travel together quite often and every time I get on a plane with him now, I just look at him and smirk. And hope that he hasn’t had any fast food.


By Jason Schlossberg, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com.



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