But do you really want to be Dana White? Do you really want to do what it takes to be the president of the Ultimate Fighting Championship? In theory, it sounds fairly enticing, until you hear some of the details -- the gory details, in my opinion.
White said Wednesday from his home in Las Vegas that from late Friday through Tuesday, he spent a total of 50 hours in the air. After figuring the flight times, it appears the correct number is 33 hours in the air, though that doesn't account for stops or waiting time. For the mathematically challenged, 33 hours is a full day and a quarter.
White's journey started late Friday, after the live airing of "The Ultimate Fighter" in Las Vegas. After White completed his obligations on the show at about 8 p.m. Pacific, he headed to the airport for a flight to Stockholm, Sweden.
The plane left Las Vegas at 10 p.m. Pacific. About 11 hours later, he was in Stockholm to be cageside for UFC on Fuel 2. When the fight card ended, White and crew hopped a plane for a six-hour flight to Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates, for meetings with his partners. When the meetings were complete, it was an almost 16-hour flight from Abu Dhabi to his home in Las Vegas.
"I don't know what it is, but I don't get jet-lagged," White told Cagewriter. "I guess I'm lucky. But you know how on the Internet, a lot of people say I'm fat? I get it a lot -- 'Hey, you fat pig,' that kind of thing -- but when people meet me, they say, 'You know, you're not really as fat as you look in pictures or on TV.' But when I'm in the plane that long, I kind of get bloated, swelled up, whatever you want to call it. I can't even close my fist sometimes."
White's travels aren't done. He'll be in Las Vegas through Friday, handling his duties with "The Ultimate Fighter" yet again. After the fight, he'll hop a plane for Atlanta, so that he can attend UFC 145 at Philips Arena on Saturday.
That's a simple four-hour cross-country trip. After the news conference that will begin early Sunday morning, White will hop his plane back to Vegas for a nice little West Coast to East Coast commute in a span of about 30 hours.
He's not flying Spirit Airlines, the worst airline known to man, and he's not squeezed into a middle seat next to a 330-pound guy who smells like he last showered in the Clinton Administration, but it's air time nonetheless.
There may be some folks who find that kind of a job appealing, but don't count me among that group.
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