Private Air New York

www.privateairny.com 92   |   Private Air  Fall 2026 e open-air lobby frames the reveal beautifully. A procession of arches draws your gaze across reflecting water, palm trees, crisp white buildings and elegant loungers until eventually there is nothing left to look at except the sea. Check-in happens casually at a lounge table rather than across an imposing reception desk. A chilled lemongrass-and-ginger drink appeared in my hand, staff greeted me with smiles wide enough to make it clear they were genuinely happy I had arrived, and somehow they already knew my name and preferences. I later learned that the ingredients in that welcome drink came from Aurora's hydroponic farm. At the time, I was mostly wondering how quickly I could get closer to the beach. Aurora is owned by Best Buy founder Richard "Dick" Schulze, whose involvement in the resort was one of the things that had piqued my curiosity before the trip. His interest in how the property actually operates, rather than simply owning a Caribbean resort from afar, can be felt in the details. is is a substantial property, yet service rarely feels institutional. A golf cart carried me through the grounds toward my beachfront accommodations on Rendezvous Bay, where another small miracle had occurred: my luggage was already waiting. I hadn't seen it since Scottsdale. Anyone who travels frequently understands how quickly that sort of thing earns goodwill. My suite was spacious and serene, stocked with thoughtful welcome gifts that included sandals, a tote and delicate treats made on property. e bellman gave me a tour, but my attention kept drifting toward the sliding glass doors. Just beyond the covered terrace, perhaps 20 steps away, was the beach. Coconut palms moved gently in the breeze. A sailboat crossed the horizon. I could hear almost nothing. Peace like that should be bottled. Someone would make a fortune. I could have stayed exactly where I was, but it was ursday, and I had been told not to miss the lobster barbecue at C Level. I am very glad I listened. e spread was generous enough to render discipline useless: lobster, fish, Johnny cakes, soup, paella, Anguillan pigeon peas and rice, and more dishes than I could reasonably sample. I tried anyway. en came my discovery of the evening, crayfish. Not crawfish. Crayfish. By that point I had already eaten enough to know better, but vacation rules prevailed, and I went back for more. Dinner unfolded directly beside the beach while a live band moved easily through a sound somewhere between Sade and Billy Ocean. A large group nearby had returned from Carnival festivities. Some guests ate with their feet almost in the sand; others gathered on the deck. Families roasted s'mores around a fire beneath the moon. On the beach, a young girl practiced contemporary dance moves while what appeared to be her little brother repeatedly attempted to capture the Caribbean in a cup. eir mother watched nearby. e waves rolled in, the temperature had softened, and everyone seemed exactly where they wanted to be. at scene stayed with me more than any carefully planned entertainment could have. PASSPORT

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