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Gold Level Members like to travel in style, and keep their style cool in the chilly winds that blow through our refrigerated halls. And who keeps their golden locks in place while traveling the gilded skies? Don Blair, flying stylist of the air!
Our passengers have special needs, being so terribly rich with gold has made them old, their hair limp and unhappy, just like their lives. So it's up to old Donny to spruce them up, with a spritz and a spray to keep things perky and in place, while they pose for each other with their poodles.
It's really not their fault they are in the 1%. Just born that way, I guess! So it's important to do our best to provide them at least a bit of joy in their otherwise hum drum lives.
We keep your gold locked up in the hold, where it's cold, so that gold will stay froze. It's secured with ropes and tethers and is perfectly safe should the ship run into a bit of bad weather. But what if you're along for the ride? Who's going to keep you safe and secure and slightly inebriated?
Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-on gold underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin. Please fasten your golden seat belt and make sure your seat back and golden trays are in their full upright position!
That's right, it's me! Flight attendant Mindy. And if you're good I'll bring you a little bottle of Goldschläger once we're underway!
Oh... maybe you'd like a blanket?
Sometimes our passengers’ pets can catch the sniffles and sneeze (while we’re transporting their gold in our deep freeze) and who can they turn to in their time of need? Me! Wanda McDervish, veterinarian of the air!
Poodles, persian kitties, wolfhounds and cockatiels—remember, the Golden Stone is kept quite cool to ensure your gold suffers no fissures and cracks while en route, and your little partner could use a cloak or a sweater for the entire time they’re on board.
But if they show a sniffle, or a shiver, it may be distemper or even rabies, so feel free to drop by any time!
Who irons the golden arm bands? Me, of course! Ben Satisfaction, Golden Armband Ironer. What's with the armbands you say? A little creepy and militaristic? Not at all! Oh ho ho ho. Not at all.
You see, the Golden Armbands are only worn at special occasions, by special people, for special reasons. There are members of the crew who are members of The Royal Society of Gilded Gleaners, and as such must perform the appointed Rituals of the Golden Ones at the appointed times. You've seen them as a small child, in their white suits and golden armbands, walking down the hall and looking in at you through the wire glass in the door.
That misty fog that surrounds them can make the armbands curdle, so you've got use lots of starch.
I'm the Anti-Grav man. There's really no other way the Golden Stone could keep all that gold up in the air. It's simple physics! I maintain the repulsive array that keeps the ship at the top of the gravity well, and if some people find me repulsive that's just too bad, because it comes with the territory. Years of exposure to the anti-grav have made me the Anti-Man, and I can barely utter a word to friends or family without being rejected right away. But I've learned to live with it. The responsibility of being an Anit-Grav man (or woman) is just too great to let the little things get in the way. They seem to forget about it soon enough, and I just maintain my repulsive ways, because somebody's gotta keep that gold afloat.
I'm Heavenly Pete, the one who puts all that gold into the cloud! You might think your gold is safe, hidden beneath the secret trap door under your bed, but even if you've got professional industrial refrigeration like the Golden Stone, your gold is still vulnerable to miners, nosy housekeepers, and mice! The only way to keep it truly safe is to put that gold into the cloud! That's where I come in. I'm in charge of making sure our clients' gold gets into the cloud. And stays there! Let's face it, the closest thing to eternal that we'll ever know are the wind, stars, snow, and the clouds! So get your gold up into the cloud today, and tell 'em Heavenly Pete set ya!
Keeping your gold on ice and your bankroll looking nice--that's the kind of thing I make up all day long as head of the Golden Stone's marketing and PR efforts! Who needs to be advertised to? People with GOLD, who want to keep it COLD! That's right, I can see your golden statue of the little peeing boy starting to crack right in half in this heat. We're happy to send out a representative for a free appraisal now on just how little it would take to keep that little guy safe! Put him in our refrigerated vaults and we'll keep him chill, with none of those embarrassing hairline cracks you see at parties. All your gold! Your rings and your watches, your utensils and your plates, your gold card and your marigolds, your potatoes and your dates! Put it all inside this velvet bag, ladies and gentlemen, and you can trust us to keep it cool.
Did you know that all the gold we have on this planet was created in the explosions of dying suns? The temperatures and conditions to create it don't occur on the Earth--only in supernovae, which is the only place it happens. It's stars where the gold comes from, and it's the stars I use to chart the course of the Golden Stone, because I'm Varna Johnson, Ship's Navigator!
Sure, we've got maps and radar and dead reckoning charts, but on a clear night I climb up on top of the ship, rope myself on, and pull out my trusty sextant to chart our course. Someday you will find me caught beneath the landslide, but until then I'll make sure the Golden Stone gets where it needs to go by the power of starlight, and the formidable power of the universe itself.
The clients of the Golden Stone trust us to keep their gold safe, and not ask questions. They need someone with a cool attitude--like me: Clem Krinkle, Ship's Detective. I keep their gold on ice, and frost out the nosy punks who come sniffing around. You gotta keep the temperature low or the place gets hot, and I don't approve of the use of heaters.
Snow cones! Baked Alaska! Frosted Flakes! The crew of the Golden Stone needs to eat, and I'm the chef that puts the food in front of them. Cold as it is, the crew needs to burn the calories, so I've got to keep them fed. And feed them fat! To burn! Sometimes it's just straight up lard, scooped into a cone, its greasy white goodness dripping down the sides. Eat it up, you mushers! And be glad that when we do have ice cream, it isn't just cold mashed potatoes like we used in the movie.