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After celebrating America’s 250th birthday in Miami, one of America’s coolest and wettest cities, I made a travel move that, from experience, is either a perfectly calculated strategy or a stunning failure. We returned to LaGuardia at 9 a.m. Monday, bathed in sunshine and full of stone crab. Most rainy days I had to finish my errands and errands, pack again and be back at JFK, New York’s worst airport, by 7:30 pm for a night flight to London.
After an average of four hours of interrupted sleep, I arrived at Heathrow, was greeted by my driver, and led into a new black Range Rover with the Wimbledon logo on the door. I went to Estelle Manor, a hotel and members’ club on the edge of the Cotswolds in Oxfordshire, which had a pristine pool, incredible landscaping and a small gym. Very Good. I arrived relatively tired, but after a pump and shower following the trip to the aforementioned gym, I was a new man and was able to snag a pool side seat, sandwiched between pasty Brits in Gymshark shorts who were sipping afternoon Aperol spritzes and pints just as we were. ibiza.
I had to get up early to visit Jaguar Land Rover headquarters in Gaydon, Warwickshire, a town whose name is so British I feel bad saying it. My love for cars is negligible; I’ve never seen an episode of this top Gear Or grand tourBut I’m always happy to hear dedicated experts wax poetic about their passion. This nonsense was no joke; Coming inside felt like a trip to the White House. I even had to keep my cellphone in the locker. Once we arrived at the design studio, a group of high-level employees walked us through the ins and outs of the entire operation. My conclusion was that it will take very smart people and a lot of time to innovate in the auto space in 2026; This shit is hard. I believe that cars should only be offered in black, white and silver, but I guess I’m in the minority on this opinion.
We left the factory, boarded our fleet of Chelsea tractors, and headed straight for London. We checked into The Chancery Rosewood in Mayfair, which is located in the former US Embassy building. (It was nice to see they had giant eagles stuck to the ceiling, a warm welcome that felt personal.) The real purpose of this trip was to attend the women’s semi-final match at Wimbledon, something I’d wanted to do since I was a kid. Two years ago, I realized we’d be in London during the tournament, and thanks to some friends in the tennis business, I got passes to sit in the dining area for seven hours just because God was mad at us. We left with a nice big-boy logo umbrella but didn’t see any real activity. The taste of strawberries and cream is the only good memory I have of that failed attempt. I was looking for salvation.
Range Rover is the presenting sponsor of the tournament, so after visiting the hospitality suite for some icy Evian and a surprisingly entertaining breakdown of the match between Coco Gauff and Karolina Muchova from former British professional player and head of the BBC Annabel Croft, I headed to my seat, which was located just inside the shady stand at center court. I wore a suit because it felt like the right thing to do, but due to the heat and the much-discussed lack of air conditioning, I felt overdressed. After the warm-up, my blue J. The Musser double-breasted jacket was folded across my lap, creating an unfortunate blanket-like situation. I managed to win a great three-set match, which ended with Gauff taking a nasty knock in the tiebreak.
