How I was held at gunpoint while selling a private jet!

The first jet I ever sold in my life, I was held at gunpoint 3 ft away from me. It's a long story. So, the first time I sold the jet, I was 23 years old. I flew to America, to North Carolina. We were signing a deal with a Venezuelan buyer; he had two of his henchmen representing him. We signed the deal, they were transferring the funds, we were flying the airplane to Miami, and then we were going to make sure the deal was completely closed, the money was received, and they were taking the airplane to Venezuela. I was getting back on a commercial plane, flying back to Washington, DC, to see where I lived.

We were halfway from North Carolina to Miami, and the two people on the plane with me said to me, "Steve, we have to talk to you about something." I said, "What's that?" He said, "We want to get our commission." "What do you mean you're going to get your commission? You're representing the buyer; there's no commission for you!" "No, no, we need to get our commission." I said, "Well, that's crazy! How much money do you want?" I can't remember what it was; it was a significant amount, about the same amount that we earned. I said, "No, there's no money for you."

He said, "Well, don't worry about it, when we get to Venezuela, you'll be able to go back home after we get our money, and everything will be fine." I said, "No, you guys are a little bit mistaken. I'm not going to Venezuela; I'm getting off the airplane in Miami, and the deal's finished. You're going to Venezuela, and I'm going home." He said, "No, Steve, you don't understand," and he reached in his pocket. He pulled out a pistol, and he's 3 feet away from me. He says, "You're going with Venezuela, and if we don't get our money, you are never going home."

I mean, I tell you, I went from feeling like James Bond, 23 years old, just selling my first $3 million jet—which was many, many years ago, which today is like $50 million—to like a little mouse. I mean, what's happening here? The guy was pointing a gun at my face; he wants me to give money that I didn't have. All I did was have visions that my mother was going to receive a box in the mail with my body parts in it. This was during the old Scarface days, and all kinds of crazy things would go through your head.

Anyway, we landed at Miami airport. We went to the private jet terminal, and he followed me with his gun in his pocket. We walked inside; there were no cell phones in those days. I had to put my 10 cents in the payphone in the terminal, and just when I did that, the lady behind the cash register said to the man, "Excuse me, I need the credit card to pay for the fuel on the jet." So he turned around to go give the woman the credit card. As soon as he did that, and walked away, I dropped the phone, I ran out the other door. There was a taxi outside; I jumped in the car quickly and said to the guy, "Quick, quick, quick! I get a flight! I'll give you a $100! Go, go!" The taxi took off.

I was down in the back seat hiding. The guy comes running out; I thought he was going to be shooting at me. It was a very bizarre, surreal moment. Anyway, I got to the airline terminal, I was hiding behind all those big concrete columns. I called my office, made sure the money was received, we closed the deal. I thought that was fantastic. I had to get out; I raced over to my flight. Thank goodness in those days there were no metal detectors; it was a really long time ago. I got on the airplane, I'm just looking at that front door, waiting— is this guy going to come after me? He knows where I'm going. They closed the door; I was so relieved. I left my briefcase, my jacket; everything was on the airplane. I didn't care; the deal was closed.

My first airplane sale. I got back home, came to the office the next day. Of course, I was being a brave big guy saying, "No, you should have seen what I did! I told the guy to go to hell; I didn't care." But anyway, at the end of the day, I always worried for the next month. Every time I turned the key on my car, I was like, "Am I going to get blown up now or not?" I was pretty scared for about a month. And after a month, I just forgot about it; it went away. I never saw or heard from these people again, and that was my first aircraft sale. Quite a way to go through the first time, and to believe I actually stuck with it after all that.