Encontré este artículo por casualidad, y mientras lo leía pensaba que se trataba de algún relato corto escrito por algún redactor de este medio, pero parece ser que realmente la historia que cuenta es cierta, aunque con algunos detalles difíciles de creer. Pero sea una historia real o no, merece la pena leerlo, aunque eso sí, está todo escrito completamente en Inglés.

El artículo habla sobre un señor llamado Nick Popovich, que yo juraría que se trata de un seudónimo aunque la página oficial de la empresa diga todo lo contrario, si pensamos claro está que esta ultima tampoco es un fraude. Este señor se dedica a recuperar los juguetes perdidos de las empresas, es decir, empresas o particulares que alquilan o compran jets privados o grandes aeronaves como 747’s y que luego no pagan las correspondientes cuotas o recibos. Entonces la empresa propietaria de estas aeronaves contrata a este señor que junto con su equipo de pilotos y mecánicos va allá donde haga falta para recuperarlo y devolvérselo a su dueño.

Una de las historietas de película que cuenta en el artículo se trata de un 707 que tuvo que ir a recuperar a Haití, al aeropuerto de Puerto Príncipe, y esto fue lo que pasó:

There was the time in the ’80s when he was thrown into a Haitian jail cell. Jail stints came with the job, but this time was different.

Inside the cell, Haitian cops had turned Popovich’s face inside out. The pain was ungodly. His shoes were gone. He was starving. And Popovich was sitting in a cage surrounded by 35 prisoners spitting epithets in his face. His only priority was to avoid getting hurt any worse than he already was. In his experience, that meant behaving like a total maniac, lashing out at the nearest prisoners and threatening to kill anyone that came near him.

The charge was the attempted theft of a 707 jet and he was facing 20 years to life. The jet in question belonged to a Caribbean tour company that went bust. After a few missed payments, the bank had called Popovich, who had tracked the plane from the Dominican Republic to Haiti. The gig promised to be simple. Popovich even spotted the battered silver-and-blue jet on the tarmac as he taxied into Port Au Prince’s Toussaint L’Ouverture airport on a sweltering February afternoon. All he needed was an hour to check the avionics, an open runway and a flight plan. It hadn’t worked out that way.

By the third day of his imprisonment — sometime after the American embassy politely informed him that the bank employing him wouldn’t put up $100,000 in bail — details started to come back. The tracer fire pinging the plane’s wings like popcorn kernels. Men with bayonets slamming on the fuselage. A police cruiser skidding to a halt right in front of the jet, blocking the runway and preventing Nick from taking off. The cops beating him senseless and throwing him in Penitentier National prison. And now, here he was.

On the seventh day of his incarceration, Haitian President Baby Doc Duvalier was overthrown and the rioting masses swung open all of the cell doors. Bruised, bloody and sleepless, Popovich hobbled out of his cell. As he taxied down the runway for the second time. he couldn’t help thinking that what they said was true: Flying home is always the easy part.

Y aquí no acaba todo, hay muchas más historias de como hizo fortuna con este negocio tan peculiar.

Os dejo el link para que lo leáis, eso sí, el que lo considere como una historia inventada lo puede leer como si de una novela de espías se tratase.