Departure
4/17/04 2:23 AM
Teterboro is only six minutes away from the West Side Heliport by helicopter, but by the time I land next to N522PB, my Falcon 50, Ricardo has placed my luggage on board and we have been cleared for immediate take- off.
There is a way of holding a glass, specifically a wine or Champagne flute, that enables one to continue sipping a drink regardless of how many thousands of pounds of thrust are propelling them up into the sky. You hold the stem between your thumb and index finger, and, like a gyroscope, the liquid within seeks a stable level.
Most people don't know that.
We pass over Manhattan as the night sky begins to change from cobalt to pale blue. By the time the sky will flash orange, then become the pale gray of dawn, I will be over Newfoundland, and less than seven hours from Nice.
For as long as I can remember, The Hotel du Cap, at the tip of Antibes, has been my refuge from the world, considered by those lucky enough to be welcomed regularly by Les Messieurs Irondelle and Quiska to be the most perfect spot on the French Riviera.
It is at Eden Roc, the Hotel's pavilion by the sea, that I learned to swim, to dive, and to water ski. And it is there that P.B. learned to do the same.
But this time I am alone, and as it is very early in the Season, I will have the place to myself. It will be me, the sea, and the light reflecting off the mountains that inspired Picasso to paint and Fitzgerald to write.
It is here that I am truly at peace, with myself, and with the world. It is the one place on Earth where I can stand to be alone, and in fact welcome the opportunity to recharge, rethink, regroup, or just stare up into the Sun until everything becomes white and peaceful, like in Heaven.
It is here that I will plan the next phase of my life, and reflect on the last one.
Virtually Yours,
Eternally,
Patrick Bateman
Teterboro is only six minutes away from the West Side Heliport by helicopter, but by the time I land next to N522PB, my Falcon 50, Ricardo has placed my luggage on board and we have been cleared for immediate take- off.
There is a way of holding a glass, specifically a wine or Champagne flute, that enables one to continue sipping a drink regardless of how many thousands of pounds of thrust are propelling them up into the sky. You hold the stem between your thumb and index finger, and, like a gyroscope, the liquid within seeks a stable level.
Most people don't know that.
We pass over Manhattan as the night sky begins to change from cobalt to pale blue. By the time the sky will flash orange, then become the pale gray of dawn, I will be over Newfoundland, and less than seven hours from Nice.
For as long as I can remember, The Hotel du Cap, at the tip of Antibes, has been my refuge from the world, considered by those lucky enough to be welcomed regularly by Les Messieurs Irondelle and Quiska to be the most perfect spot on the French Riviera.
It is at Eden Roc, the Hotel's pavilion by the sea, that I learned to swim, to dive, and to water ski. And it is there that P.B. learned to do the same.
But this time I am alone, and as it is very early in the Season, I will have the place to myself. It will be me, the sea, and the light reflecting off the mountains that inspired Picasso to paint and Fitzgerald to write.
It is here that I am truly at peace, with myself, and with the world. It is the one place on Earth where I can stand to be alone, and in fact welcome the opportunity to recharge, rethink, regroup, or just stare up into the Sun until everything becomes white and peaceful, like in Heaven.
It is here that I will plan the next phase of my life, and reflect on the last one.
Virtually Yours,
Eternally,
Patrick Bateman