“Good Lord! Okay, the plane will be a few million. You can probably pick up one just a few years old for a reasonable figure. A lot of them have come on the market as owners trade up to the new G4 model. You’ll need two pilots for that, as well as the same sort of hangar space and fees and parts and fuel. If you want both, you’ll be paying two to three mill a year, at least.”
“But it could be done?”
“Yeah, sure. With enough cash anything can be done. Hell, we made it to the moon, didn’t we? D.C. should be a piece of cake.” Then he scratched his head and asked, “Are you serious about this?”
“Yeah, I think so. Can it be done?”
“Okay, but here’s another approach. What do you know about planes and helos, really? Why not pay me to handle this. We can put the birds under Executive Charters’ name and certificates, use our facilities, our pilots, our mechanics and offices and hangars. We handle everything and you get either exclusive use or preferred use on everything. If you aren’t using them, we can use them for rental or charter, to offset the costs.”
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped halfway. This might actually make sense. I didn’t really want to own airplanes; I just wanted to use them whenever I could. Why in the world did I want to run an airline? Even the airlines lost money doing that, and they were the ones who were supposed to know how to do it! I closed my mouth and thought about it, and gave Lloyd a wry smile. “Listen, do me a favor and look into this. Come up with a proposal. I just want to be able to hop back and forth when I want to, and use the airplane for longer trips and vacations and such.”
“You want to go into National, or College Park?”
“College Park?” That was where the University of Maryland was, just outside of D.C.
“There’s a small airport there, be good for small stuff, easier to fly into and out of than National. A Gulfstream would be too big for it, but a helo would be fine. Further out, though.”
“Work it up both ways. I might have to drive from our home to both to time them.”
Lloyd nodded. “Where’s the house?”
“Northwest. Near the Naval Observatory and Rock Creek Park.”
He nodded again. “Give me a few days. Let me make some calls and work something up.”
We shook hands on it. Maybe we could make this work.
The day after my offices in Longworth were emptied out, I moved in. It was bare bones, but habitable. Sherry Longbottom, my new Legislative Director, commented, “Not much to look at, is it?”
“You’d prefer a spot over in the Cages?” I asked.
“Been there, done that! It’s really quite lovely here, isn’t it?”
“That’s the winning attitude!” I answered, smiling. “Okay, seriously, let’s make this habitable. Figure out what we’re going to need and let’s get it ordered. I don’t need a matching mahogany and gold suite, but we need something decent, computers for everybody, printers, copiers, all that stuff. If we don’t have it, get it. Beg, borrow, or steal, I don’t care. If you need me to run interference, fine, but you guys probably know how to get it done better than I do.”
Mindy McIlroy, my Executive Assistant, smiled and commented, “I am guessing your watchword will be plausible deniability?”
“You have hit upon my next campaign slogan! Write that down!” I motioned for her and Chuck to follow me into my personal office, which was also fairly bare. I glanced around and said, “The same goes here. I’m not all that picky on décor, but we need to do something. In the meantime, let’s go over my schedule.” The three of us sorted things out. The lame duck session was finished, and wouldn’t reconvene until January 3rd, early for Congress. Then we would be out again for almost two weeks in February, almost three weeks in March/April, and another week in May, two weeks in June/July, six weeks in August/September, and then another six or seven weeks from November until January in ’92. I started adding things up, and I counted out about 26 weeks when Congress wasn’t in session, half the year! It gets worse — most work weeks are only four days long!
It’s not quite as inefficient as that makes it seem. The worker bees on the staff work Monday through Friday, and through recesses. It’s the elected officials who spend most of their time doing anything other than the nation’s business. I had already heard about the informally named ‘Tuesday-Thursday Club’. These were the Congressmen who would fly home on Thursday night and fly back to Washington on Tuesday morning, cramming four days of fundraisers or junkets into the weekend, and then forcing themselves to put in three days in Washington — usually at fundraisers.
It’s one hell of a system!
Then I went out to talk to Sherry about anything coming up for votes or committee action. Nothing significant seemed to be on the horizon involving either Science or Veterans Affairs, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t work that would be involved. After Congress convened, I’d start officially attending committee meetings, but before that I would be learning my assignments and meeting with top committee staffers.
Then I went home for a few days. I would be back on Monday morning, and I expected to find some decent office furnishings and a functional staff by then, by hook or by crook! Meantime, I had to go home and be husband and daddy for a few days. In particular, the Cub Scouts were doing an overnight camping trip this Saturday night, and I needed to attend. Charlie was looking forward to this. He was a Webelo now, and they could go camping. They only did one night at a time, not two or more like the Boy Scouts did. I had missed an earlier trip during the campaign. I couldn’t put it off again.
That Thursday night, all that Charlie could talk about was the upcoming camping trip. Needless to say, both of the twins wanted to go camping, too, to which their brother replied, “No way! You’re girls!”
I stifled a laugh and shook my head. “I think you two should stay home and help Mom.”
Holly whined, “Mom!”
Molly whined, “Dad!”
I just looked my wife in the eye and shook my head, “NO!” That was all I needed to do — a winter camping trip with three women who had never been camping before! I’d rather go camping back in Nicaragua.
Thank God Marilyn had the good sense to tell the girls they’d go shopping and to a movie, which almost made Charlie change his mind. I just reminded him that we would be able to go out and do ‘guy things’ and he changed his mind back to camping. I just rolled my eyes at Marilyn. “You know how to use a microwave oven in the woods?” I asked her.
“How?”
“Look for a tree that’s been hit by lightning.”
“Very funny.” Charlie giggled at that.
The camping trip was Saturday morning to Sunday morning. I had volunteered to be a ‘people mover’ and thought I would switch cars with my wife and use her minivan. A couple of the other fathers had pickups and would haul equipment. The rule with the Cub Scouts was that each boy had to be accompanied by an adult, preferably male. (Really, really, really preferably male — it makes life so much simpler that way.) Back on my first go when Parker had gone through the Scouts, I had done it with him, so this was old hat to me. I spent the day sorting through some old gear and running into Towson with Marilyn to pick up a few things.
This actually led to a serious argument with Henry Donaldson, about my security. He wanted a couple of his guys to go camping with us, which I refused. That would make us stick out like sore thumbs. For one thing, half the parents in the Pack would yank their kids out of the Pack. If my children and I were in such danger that we needed permanent security, then we were much too dangerous to be allowed near their precious offspring! It wasn’t Charlie’s fault his old man was a big shot.