THERE’S SOMETHING ALLURING about flying in a private jet, even if you’re sitting backwards, crammed alongside other reporters. Maybe it’s because you walk directly onto the tarmac, up the stairs to the Lear, no lines and no need to remove your shoes. Maybe it’s the leather chairs and wood paneling. Or maybe it’s the free scotch and Snickers bars. Not that I imbibed on the 9:00 a.m. flight to Owego, New York, courtesy of Lockheed Martin. (You would think the largest defense contractor in the world could afford a Gulf Stream. Or a stealth bomber.) Still, it was a treat–and the only thing Lockheed wanted was a story praising the US101 as the helicopter best suited for the president of the United States.