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T A B L E_T A L K How do you save money when you travel? Share your tips for being a thrifty tourist in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk ___________________
R E C E N T L Y Miming Mexico The cruise cocoon Desperately seeking e-mail This week in travel
Wanderlust's select guide to the top travel-related news stories from around the globe In the driver's seat
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| ___T H E VI R G I N K I N G
BY DON GEORGE | It takes a while to get used to Richard Branson in person. Like pop stars and politicians, actors and athletes, he is one of those figures who projects a larger-than-life image, so when he's sitting elbow-to-elbow with you at a San Francisco restaurant, at first the parts don't quite seem to fit. The eyebrows are too bushy, the cheeks seem too stretched and smooth, the smile is too white and wide -- he just doesn't look the way you're used to seeing him, on billboards and TV screens and in magazines. Branson has breezed into town to promote his new book, "Losing My Virginity." That's his motive for meeting me, but my motive for meeting him is more complicated. For years, Richard Branson has been an icon for me: a maverick who follows his dreams and isn't afraid to take on the corporate Goliaths of the world; a showman who makes fun of himself -- and garners priceless press for his products -- with spectacular stunts; an innovator who has challenged and changed the airline industry; an adventurer who attempts feats of unfettered derring-do; a middle-aged man-child who seems to have found fun and success and personal fulfillment all at the same time. For years I have wondered: What is Richard Branson really like? But now he's sitting right beside me and frankly, he's not looking so iconic. His hair is frazzled, he's wearing a rumpled blue suit that looks like it could have come out of my closet, and he looks weary to the bone. I understand: He's in the final throes of a grueling cross-country author tour, the usual nightmare-go-round of talk-show appearances and reporter interviews. And, unlike any other author on tour, in the midst of all this he is also running a 150-company, 23,000-employee, $4 billion empire, one that spans the globe and ranges from airplanes and railroads to cinemas and music megastores to financial services and a soft drink. I steal glances at him as we look over the menu. Is this the man People magazine called the sexiest businessman in the world, the one Britons annually vote as one of their best-loved celebrities, the dashing, daring, never-say-die 48-year-old billionaire behind the Virgin brand? I have just finished reading his book, which is a cliffhanger-at-the-end-of-every-chapter account of his career as an "adventure capitalist." From the age of 16, when he started his first venture -- a magazine called Student -- Branson's life has been a tale of continually pushing the entrepreneurial envelope to the very brink of disaster -- and then somehow, miraculously and often at the very last minute, cobbling together some sort of funding to stave off the latest crisis and launch yet another seemingly suicidal enterprise. The book is a whirlwind, a highly entertaining and engagingly candid description of his victories and defeats, both personal and professional. When you read it, you know you are getting only one version of the story, but that doesn't spoil the story in any way. He asks what I'm having, and I say salmon, and he says that sounds good to him, and he calls the waitress over and orders two salmons and then, because he wants a Caesar salad too, he orders two Caesar salads -- so that I won't feel left out. Then he runs his hand through his signature dirty-blond hair -- which is streaked here and there with gray, something else those billboards don't show -- and stares dully at the starched peach-color tablecloth and the still-steaming rolls. I plunge in. "The story of your life is just amazing to me. How do you keep reinventing yourself over and over? Don't you get tired?" He sighs, and the sigh turns into a weary, self-deprecating laugh, and the corners around his mouth crinkle up, and he turns his blue eyes onto me, not so dull now, and already I can begin to understand how this man has always managed to pull success out of disaster's hat. "Sometimes, yes. I like to burn the candle at both ends. It's self-inflicted. I like to throw myself wholeheartedly into life. Now I find myself in this fantastic position where I could do almost anything I could possibly want to do, and I just don't want to waste that position by disappearing off to a desert island and putting my feet up. There is so much more to learn and to achieve, and so much more fun to have, and so I choose to continue to set myself new challenges, to set our staff new challenges, new goals to overcome. And as we get comfortable, I want to make sure that we shake ourselves up and don't let ourselves get too comfortable -- that we keep questioning what we're doing, keep questioning what other people are doing, keep questioning what big companies are doing, seeing whether we can turn them on their head, and pay the bills at the same time." N E X T+P A G E | The crucial criterion: How much fun will I have? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - |
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