Stevie “Boy” Cohen: San Antonio Int’l to Mc Carran Int’l (Vegas) on his Gulfstream V

Bill “Prom Queen” Gates: Teterboro to Grand Bahama Int’l on his Cessna Citation X

Warren “Grandma” Buffett: Westchester Co to Denver Int’l on his Gulfstream IV

John “Another Bad Guy” Mack: Westchester Co to Raleigh Durham Int’l on his Gulfstream V

While we’re nothing if not accustomed to inspiring people, we didn’t know our reach was as high up (town) as the New York Times (43rd Street—it’s quite the hike!). But now that we’re here, we might as well grab the mic and offer some pointers.

DealBreakers Guide To Planespotting:

1.If you’re going to ’Spot, you shall spot with Dead Hookers. One does not happen without the other. We cannot stress this enough. For the uninformed, a quick tutorial:

= Dead hooker

X 1 = More mundane and predictable than Mel Gibson’s anti-Semitism. (C’mon. Man Without A Face? Don’t even pretend you didn’t know that was a metaphor for Hitler.)

X 5 = Put her in a bag and walk promptly but cautiously out of the hotel. Drive to the docks. Make the drop with a guy named Snakes. Speak to no one. You were never here. Where? Exactly.

2.Sentences like “The chief executive of AirTran Holdings said his company would be interested in buying gates from the airlines in such a situation, The Wall Street Journal reported Friday” have absolutely no business in a Planespotting post. Too many facts. Too many instances of actual reporting. Too much “useful” information. Too much this. Too much that. Not enough “what the hell kind of crazy drugs is this sociopath on?”

3.IM convos.

4.Sprinkles—or lack thereof.

Sorkin et al— if more help is necessary, feel free to stop by the office…anytime.

Barry Diller: Princess Juliana Int’l to Francis S Gabreski on his Raytheon Hawker 800

Donald Trump: La Guardia to Los Angeles Int’l on his Boeing 727-100

Warren Buffett: Naples Municipal to Point Salines Int’l on his Cessna 560 Citation 5

Bill Gates: Trenton Mercer to Luis Munoz Marin Int’l on his Cessna Citation X

Blackstone: Bermuda Int’l to Washington Dulles Int’l on its Raytheon Hawker 800

Donald Trump: Palm Beach Int’l to La Guardia on his Boeing 727-100

Warren Buffett: Westchester Co to Boca Raton on his Gulfstream IV

Denise Rich: Westchester Co to Washington Dulles Int’l on her Learjet 60

Oprah: Bob Hope to Santa Barbara Municipal on her Gulfstream IV

Paris Hilton: San Antonio Int’l to Panama City Bay Co Int’l on her Piper Cheyenne 2

Bill Gates: San Diego Int’l to General Manuel Marquez De Leon Int’l on his Cessna Citation Excel

[Earlier that evening, at the Gates manse…]

Bill: Ten hour-long phone calls last month alone to Mount Kisco. Who do we know in Mount Kisco?
Melinda: What?
Bill: I said ‘who do we know it Mount Kisco?’
Melinda: My Aunt Fannie’s daughter-in-law, Rachel.
Bill: Oh, right. Rachel, yes. How is Rachel?
Melinda: Good, she just had her baby.
Bill: Yes, right. Well I’m just thinking that it wouldn’t hurt any of us to really hunker down and try to keep the long distance calls to a min—
Melinda: Hey, Bill? Do you want to do something crazy tonight?
Bill: -imum. Money doesn’t grow on trees and—
Melinda: Bill, listen to me, I’m being serious. Do you want to do something crazy?
Bill: Oh, um, gee, what’d you have in mind?
Melinda: I don’t know I just feel like we’re stuck in a rut. Let’s do something we’ve never done before.
Bill: You want to eat breakfast for dinner?
Melinda: No, Bill, something crazy.
Bill: You want to watch Friends with the Spanish subtitles on?
Melinda: No, Bill, something crazy.
Bill: You want stay up all night?
Melinda: NO BILL I WANT TO DO SOMETHING CRAZY!!!
Bill: I’m sorry, Melinda, I’m fresh out of ideas. I’m not some stud horse that can bring home the bacon AND come up with ‘crazy’ ways to entertain you, okay? I can’t- I can’t think of anything, okay? And I think this is a little unfair of you, you know I’ve been having a hard time with Sergey and Larry and now you want me to be the activities director of this cruise ship, too? I’m serious Melinda, what the eff? I’d say let’s go to Mexico, but you’d probably just shoot that down, too, just like you shot down my idea for email for cats and—
Melinda: Email for cats and Mexico are hardly the same Bill.
Bill: You mean Mexico isn’t a brilliant moneymaking scheme? Because I still think you prematurely shot that down, you always do that to me and—
Melinda: No, I mean it would be crazy to go to Mexico. Pack the jet.
Bill: Pack it for what?
Melinda: Really, Bill?
Bill: Pack it for what?
Melinda: MEXICO!
Bill: Mexico? That’s crazy!

John Mack: Westchester Co to Nassau Int’l on his Gulfstream V

To Do:
1. Kick Arthur Sulzberger Jr. in the balls
2. Go some place tropical!
3. Buy Milk

Morgan Stanley: Westchester Co to Frankfurt Main on its Gulfstream V
(Racist and anti-Semetic, are you? Thanks, but we’ll be taking our business over to the Heebs at Goldman Sachs, where we can enjoy a good episode of Seinfeld and nice piece of lox without fear of castigation, and the white sheets don’t have any holes.)

NYSE: Westchester Co to Berumuda Int’l on its Gulfstream IV

(Wal-Mart Spawn) Jim Walton: Lethbridge to Grande Prairie (Alberta) on his Cessna Skylane

Donald Trump: Pease Int’l Tradeport to La Guardia on his Boeing 727-100

David Becker: Port Isabel Cameron Co to Austin Bergstrom Int’l on his Mooney M-20

[We’ve got our hands full with Wall Street Warriors, episodes 3-6, so you’re going to have to fend for yourselves today, salacious and mud-slinging conspiracy theory-wise. Be good and we promise to give Becker the full planespotting treatment on Thursday. Be bad and we’ll make sure your dreams are haunted by this guy.]

Warren Buffett: Santa Monica Municipal to Centennial (Denver) on his Gulfstream IV

Drinks? Dinner? Tomorrow? 7:30?*

Donald Trump: John F Kennedy Int’l to Pease Int’l Tradeport on his Boeing 727-100

*In a room full of people, you’re the only one we see.

Blackstone Group: Westchester Co to Edward Lawrence Logan Int’l on its Raytheon Hawker 800

*In a room full of people, you’re the only one for me.
(But this does smell fishy)

[Editor’s note: the opinion’s expressed here are Bess’s and Bess’s only. I continue to hate Warren Buffett. —JC]

Warren Buffett: Teterboro to Santa Monica Municipal on his Gulfstream IV
No dead hookers! This trip is fine by us!*

*Warren. Warrie. (Can we call you Warrie?). Let’s chat. No need to be afraid, we promise. Really, we’re not going to say anything defamatory. Girl Scout’s honor and you know we’re telling the truth because we were once real live Girl Scouts (yeah, we were pretty awesome at peddling Thin Mints—the crack of cookies, honestly, those babies practically sell themselves—back in the day). Okay. Wow, this is harder than we thought it’d be. Seriously, we’re shaking. Does anyone have any Valium up in this bitch? No? It’s all gone? Honestly, whose turn was it to refill that prescription? Jesus, if we’re going to do one thing right, let’s do this, okay? (Sorry, it’s just something that we’ve had, like, a billion office meetings about and every time we say we’re going to implement a system and follow the system and we never do and it’s just kind of frustrating how something we’ve talked about a thousand times could be so flagrantly disregarded like that).

Anywho. So. You know how sometimes, in the past, so, so far in the past that it’s like, well, it’s kind of like it never happened, we’ve had some good natured jabs at your expense? Like, you know those, little jokes and stuff? You know what, let’s not even call them jokes how about something more fitting like, um, like ‘love pokes’? Yeah, that’s better. So, the love pokes—the loves poke, the love pokes, don’t make us say—ok, like saying you were going to hell, that you were trying to get people to think you were Jewish, that you were a smug little bitch, the way you just up and auctioned off your 2001 town car like you were too good for it or something, and a little high and mighty if you ask us for thinking that someone would want to buy that piece of crap just because it was yours, etc. What’s that? We didn’t write that about the car? Oh, well we definitely—you know what? Forget that last one, yeah, that was a mistake.

Anyhow. We’d like to take it all back. We got to work this morning and saw that your stock’s doing pretty well; mazel tov. And this has nothing to do with that but we just wanted to say we’re sorry about that stuff from before. Honestly, we don’t know what came over us. Actually, can we be honest? It was Carney. He’s been going through some personal problems (rehab) and for some reason (heroin) really laid into us about “writing as many hurtful things, even though you don’t want to, as possible about Warren Buffett.” But today we finally stood up to him and it feels great and we just wanted to share that with you. So, what do you say, water under the bridge? Because I think we should date (mate).

Denise Rich: Westchester Co to Washington Dulles Int’l on her Learjet 60
(We have nothing to say about this trip.)

Microsoft : Lambert St Louis Int’l to Los Cabos Int’l on its Cessna Citation X

This trip is a lot like the scene in Sixteen Candles when Anthony Michael Hall gathers all the nerds in school into one room and proudly holds up Molly Ringwald’s underwear, as a sign that, you know what? He fucking rules. And now it’s Billy’s turn. With this jaunt to Cabo San Lucas, Gates is telling us that, like AMH’s numerous failed attempts to get a female to undress in his presence and then finally sealing the deal, after all those geek-flag raising trips to Seattle and the like, Gates has finally gotten into a girl’s pants and brought it on home, so to speak. Of course, Hall was full of shit and hadn’t actually touched Molly Ringwald, only begged and somehow convinced her to let him borrow her undergarments, so we’re pretty sure Bill spent most of his time sequestered in his room after the asthma-attack inducing run-in with a harem a bikini-clad coeds upon arrival but we can all agree this a step in the right direction. Bravo, our little four-eyed friend. Bravo, indeed.

Citigroup: blank to blank on its Cessna Caravan

Citigroup: Though we’ve had our share of disagreements—why you would even consider getting rid of that adorable rouge umbrella is beyond us—all in all, we’ve had a lot of great times. Like when you went to Miami Beach and we casually mentioned that perhaps your visit was motivated more by the fact that Joe Francis was shooting footage for his latest video, Girls Gone Wild: CEOs and Secretary Hoes than by business-related matters. That was fun, wasn’t it? Even after ‘Anonymous’—executive assistant? That prick in IT?—tried, pretty skillfully, to make us feel like a naughty child in need of a timeout with his/her “What the hell is your problem with Citigroup you petulant twat-asshole”—‘twat-asshole,’ that was a good one!—, we were still enjoying ourselves, weren’t we? The flights to Vegas/Thailand/Hong Kong for what we mused were Celine Dion concerts/military coups/authentic happy endings? We’re going to go out on what we don’t even really consider a limb here and say that neither of us’ve ever had it better. And nice job on that little acquisition today; really, tongue-out-of-cheek, it was a great buy. But now, apparently, you think you don’t need us. You think, in that lying, cheating bastard sort of way, that you could just bide your time with us, and now that Turkey’s come a calling, it’s time to move on and move up. We don’t think we need to remind you that we’re talking, specifically, about that little in-the-middle-of-the-night move, wherein you decided to stop letting us know where you were going and how you were getting there. Oh, and did you think you were being kind and throwing us a bone by still letting us know that you went to ‘somewhere’ from ‘somewhere’ and how long it took to traverse the distance between ‘somewhere’ and ‘somewhere’? We don’t need your charity. In fact, we don’t want anything from you ever again. We’ve deleted every planespotting post that you were ever mentioned in. You don’t exist— not even in our archives. In case you haven’t gotten it yet, you’re dead to us. But before we let you go, here’s one for the road: Fuck you, Citigroup! You promised us the world and all we were left with was this slap in the face: 6:31pm -7:27 pm.

NYSE: Palm Beach Int’l to Dekalb Peachtree on its Gulfstream IV
You know what? We don’t have the energy for this today. Thain, do us a favor and say something defamatory about yourself— sexual preferences, proclivity for country music, balloon animals, etc, etc are all good jumping off points.
(But really whatever you think you deserve.)

Donald Trump: Los Angeles Int’l to Mc Carran Int’l on his Boeing 727-100
[…nervous laughter…shuffling papers…chirping crickets…]

Warren Buffett: Tampa Int’l to Palm Beach Int’l on his Gulfstream IV

Warren Buffett going to Palm Beach wouldn’t normally mean jack to us except for the fact that it’s actually part of an elaborate plan on his part to get out of going to hell, like polling shows he’s ultimately destined to do. Palm Beach, tragically, is now party to WB’s tawdry sex game scheme in which the Berkshire Hathaway Grand High Poobah tries to—and here’s where it gets sick—make us believe he’s a Jew. Jews, you’ll all recall, can do whatever we want because guess what? We don’t believe in that fiery place. Doesn’t exist. Talk it up all you like, Christies, because for us J’s, it ain’t happening. And that’s why Buffy wants in. His casual little, “Oh, look at me, I’m flying to Palm Beach to hang with my fellow Heebs like I always do” trip is right on the heels of GHP’s visit to Israel, where he just happened to have stayed at the King David Hotel, and just coincidentally happens to be one day before Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. And perhaps a bit too coincidentally, if you ask us; it’s like he’s trying to get us to think that flying to Palm Beach isn’t even something he thinks about but, rather, is totally innate—because he’s Jewish. He might’ve had you all fooled up until now but we’re here to break this party up and say: no dice. Give our regards to Broadway, Buffski. This is one sell you’re not going to make.

Donald Trump: Cecil Field to Pease Int’l Tradeport (NH) on his Boeing 727-100

(This isn’t the first time The Donald’s been to New Hampshire this year but it’s the first time we’ve addressed the jaunt with more than a yawn stifled by a “who gives a fuck.” New Hampshire— boring and dull, until you start to realize it’s the perfect place to dump a body. Maybe the body of a disgruntled employee, perhaps? Maybe the body of a recently fired disgruntled employee, even? Donny: you really had us going with that whole “look at me I go up the country and I swim in a lake and I buy antiques and I bottle my own maple syrup” routine, you sick sick sicko. Touché, Rug Boy. Touché indeed.)

John Travolta: Hamilton to Reno Tahoe Int’l on his Boeing 707-100

(Ah, yes. The old “fly to Vegas to create the illusion that I’m about to engage in some casual heterosexual cheating on my wife with a show girl, gambling like a 50 year old frat boy” shtick. John? Not on our watch.)

Blackstone Group: Bermuda Int’l to Southwest Florida Int’l on its Raytheon Hawker 800

(Don’t even get us started.)

Microsoft (Bill? Why not.): Ft. Lauderdale Hollywood Int’l to Princess Juliana Int’l (St. Maarten) on its Cessna Citation X.
(Princess Juliana Int’l. Princess Juliana International Airport. Where you’re picked up in a hot pink convertible and whisked away to Barbie’s Dream House, without ever having to set eyes on a native or a person not made of plastic, at which a legion of G.I. Joe dolls patiently wait for the gang-rape to commence and Skipper, if she’s a good girl, gets invited to join the fun. Bill, we never knew you were such a dirty bitch. The whole computer-geek thing was a great cover for being a sick pervert. This is a welcomed surprise, our little four-eyed friend. A welcomed surprise, indeed.)

Warren Buffett: Orlando Int’l to Farnborough (London) to Keflavik Nas (Iceland) on his Gulfstream V

(At our last editorial meeting, Carney told us to “drag Warren Buffett’s name through the mud like a coked-out whore, no matter the circumstances” (as he believes doing so will help him score with Buff’s estranged granddaughter, Nicole Buffett). Carney’s kind of like our boss in this whole operation so we were planning on doing as we were told (despite the fact that we’re pretty sure he’s already moved on to his next victim, George Soros’s niece Patsie, age 16. Sorry, Nikki). But then we remembered our General Manager’s raging, inexplicable obsession with Keflavik Nas and pondered what the rest of the day would be like being forced to look at pictures of “heaven on earth” (for the twelfth time this week) until we “got it through [our] thick skulls that nobody fucks with Keflavik Nas. Nobody.” Here’s what we came up with:)

[Editors Note: I had nothing do with this, Nikki. — JC]

Leonore Annenberg: Palm Springs Int’l to Rochester (MN) Int’l on her Gulfstream V

(Was alive when the Titanic set sail but you know the ho’s got some tricks up her sleeve.)

*Or just far enough?

William Morris Agency (ostensibly President Jim Wiatt but who can ever really know these things): Nassau Int’l (Bahamas) to Wilmington Int’l on its Gulfstream G200
(We were going to give this little jaunt low marks on account of its personally offensive nature; one dead hooker, and nothing more. Honestly, since Dawson’s Creek ended, who goes to Wilmington, NC, anymore, hmm? It’s like we always say: No Joey Potter, no Wilmington. For all intents and purposes, we’ve written the dump off as dead. So one dead hooker it was. But then, oh then, just as we were about to move on to our next victim, we got some news that shook our 1-5 dead hookers rating scale to the core. The William Morris Agency counts Starbucks as one of its corporate clients and while we love ourselves a good grande soy latte we do not love ourselves a good Akeelah and The Bee! In fact, and this might sound harsh but goddamnit, it’s got to be said: we fucking hate that goddamn girl and her goddamn fucking bee. And here’s what we’re going to do about it: William Morris Agency? No fucking dead hookers! No fucking dead hookers for you!)
YOU GET NOTHING!

Paris Hilton: Van Nuys to Luton (Bedfordshire) on her (family’s) Gulfstream V
(Like the William Morris Agency, this entry took an unexpected turn at the 11th hour, dead hooker-wise. Bedfordshire…pretty boring, right? Wrong— when you take a second to realize the odds are pretty good that P. Hilts piloted the plane herself, drunk.) (Sidebar: you can get STDS through your clothes)

John Travolta: Opa Locka to Hamilton (again) on his Boeing 707-100
(We’re not saying he’s gay but with no artfully and painstakingly crafted story to get out of the proverbial hot water this time, this trip looks fishy, to say the least)

Tom Cruise: Telluride Regional Airport to BWI Airport on his Gulfstream V (AKA “Kiss Me Kate”)
(Family of 5 in Maryland to take in a Redskins game = totally legit, not “crazy.” Flying there on a plane named “Kiss Me Kate” = a little gay. But we’ll throw Tom a “bone,” this time, something he’s never been “thrown” before (wink, wink, slap knee, kill self))

The Blackstone Group: Bermuda Int’l to Southwest Florida Int’l on its Raytheon Hawker 800
(Just ‘cause)

Leonore Annenberg: Philadelphia Int’l to Savannah Hilton Head Int’l on her Gulfstream V

(This actually getting a little you-can’t-help-but-feel-bad-for-her-in-an- “old-man-can’t-control-his-bodily-fluids-and-therefore-constantly-wets-the-bed-and-we’re-there-to-witness-it” kind of way. This is like the billionth time Leo’s been to Rich Old (Widow’d) Man central this summer, in (what we’re thinking— obviously accurately—is) a vain attempt to land husband #3. At this point, we’re kind of just embarassed for her, but she’s like so freaking old that the embarassment is wrapped up in this sort of guilt-type situation thing— not good for business—, ‘cause she’s SO OLD and it’s always sad when old people are pathetic. Unless of course numero tres is already in the bag and LA’s just following him around as a makeshift caddy until his guy gets back from vacation, in which case we say a hearty mazel tov, to you, LeA.)

Denise Rich: Adirondack Regional to Detroit Metro Wayne County on her Learjet 60

(We’re not exactly sure what’s going on yet but we know there’s something. Detroit is like Miami, Florida, kids— you’d don’t go there unless you’re going to die. Unless you’ve got somesort of shifty eyed situation going on with former President Billy C. Then, you go to Detroit. We haven’t had due cause to contact our honorary sorority sister Hillie, just yet, but just wait for it. We’re on to you, D. Rich. Oh, we’re on to you. Dead hookers of the grandest proportions indeed.)

John Travolta: Bangor Int’l to Hamilton Airport on his Boeing 707-100

(Bangor seemed like an odd pick for John to us, too. But when Hubbard says go, you go. No questions, no prescription drugs.)

Jeff Epstein: McCormick County(SC) to Anderson Regional (SC) (third time this month)

(ID’ing potentially nubile, willing young girls take time, people. It takes time. Palm Beach is done, over, finito. Anderson, SC means a brand new city with new faces, a new set of rules, and a new set of towels to pick out. You didn’t think Eps was going to do all that on foot, did you? Time is of the essence, people. You’re going to turn around and those girls are going to be sixteen. [Editors note: Are we sure this is our Jeffrey Epstein’s plane and not the other guy, who is not accused of anything? Planespotter: Of course not!]

Larry Ellison: Olbia Costa Smerald to San Francisco Int’l on his Bombardier Global Express

(How’s that $1.6 mm security detail working out for ya there, Lar?)

Charles Schwab: Greater Rochester Int’l to Harry Clever Field (New Philadelphia, OH) on his Learjet 31

(Ask Chuck…what the fuck he’s doing in New Philadelphia, Ohio.)

Roman Abramovich: Ted Stevens Anchorage Int’l to Ugolny (Russia) on his Boeing 767-300

(If you know what’s good for you, don’t ask Roman what he’s doing in Ugolny.)

Donald Trump: Cecil Field (Jacksonville, FL) to Pease Int’l Tradeport (NH) on his Boeing 727-100

(Is Donald running for President? Who goes to New Hampshire in August? Or ever? This hurts us, D.)

Air Force One: Austin Bergstrom Int’l to East Texas Regional on the Boeing 747-200B

Oprah: Teterboro to Leopold Sedar Senghor Int’l (Senegal) on her Gulfstream V

(We get it, you’re African. Quit ramming it down our throats. Do you see us in Haifa?)

JK Rowling: Heathrow Airport to McArthur Airport on her Cessna 421

(Not that we give a shit about Harry Potter, but the woman who is planning on killing off the boy wizard will remain dead to us until conditions improve. End of discussion.)