Trip Reports - Pack o' birthdays - to SFO and HNL

UA 163 BOS LAX 0830 1149 752 4A was 3D Ch9^ Empower:td:

As usual, I boarded pretty late, and most people were well
situated by the time I huffed and puffed to my seat. I was
all ready to climb over the grumpy guy in 3C when 4A called
me over. Mind if I switch my window seat for yours, asked
he. A colleague of yours, question mark. Yeah. The guy in
3C didn't look at all thrilled when I switched seats. No
longer my problem. I settled in, pleased that 4B was the
only empty seat in the cabin. Just at or slightly after door
close, though, a FA in uniform grabbed the seat. He was
pleasant, polite, and quiet, alternately sleeping or studying
his manual the whole time.

The breakfast was the usual cheez omelet with two sausage
links (quite good, real pork rather than turkey sawdust),
home fries (decent!), and Canadian bacon (okay, with
that miracle hard pellicle that seems neither natural nor
wholly artificial but somehow not of this world). A fruit
appetizer, one of the few things that has improved in the
two decades I've been preferentially flying United.

We were caught in enormous headwinds, so my connection was
in some jeopardy. My anxiety increased as we were ordered
into a hold, making a series of rectilinear turns before
finally settling on an approach half an hour late.

The FA made the helpful announcement that the SFO flight was
leaving out of a different terminal, so "if you stop for
coffee you're on your own." Hustled as fast as my failing
heart could let me down to gate 85 or so, where it turns out
that 1. the incoming was just incoming, owing to similar
issues as our flight, and 2. it was a Ted.

UA808 LAX SFO 1250 1409 32S 6A Ch9:td: Empower:td:

The red carpet was opened for 1Ks and GSs, and we were
cleared through before boarding, so we made a little knot
by the door. Several people who had apparently bought first
tried to get on the red carpet and were told to go to the
back of the regular line - explanation, there was no first
on this flight. I thought that the complaint "but we paid
for first" should have carried some weight, but it didn't.

The cabin crew did its best to mollify the savage breast.

No Channel 9, with assorted excuses:td:

On the regular 320, 6A is my favorite seat. On a Tedified
flight, it is nothing special. I did have an empty next to
me, which was special. The flight lasts little more than
half an hour, and I sleep anyway. Economy plus isn't that
bad after all. We landed a bit late, no surprise.

=

Berkeley stuff.

My fool computer's power supply cut out, and I called Acer
to find that nowhere in the United States could I get a
replacement; what's that about - I got the thing at Best
Buy just a year ago - I was told that if I sent the faulty
one back (at my expense) they'd eventually get around to
ordering one from Taiwan or someplace (at their expense)
and shipping it back to me (at my expense). And that there
was no approved secondary market replacement. I went on the
Web, and Kensington and Targus said the same thing, no can
do. Last resort - the Radio Shack. Yes, iGo has a universal
adaptor that puts out voltage within the range of my box,
so off I went. The smiling (!), competent (!) girl at the
Shattuck store got me fixed up in a jiffy, and off I went,
$150 lighter (there's big tax in California) but with a
functioning laptop again.

Being peckish, I walked toward town; spied the Wikiwiki
Hawaiian BBQ across the street. Had the combo plate - two
scoop rice, big scoop mac salad (with shredded carrots),
short ribs, beef teri, chicken. The beef things were tough
but pretty good-tasting, but the chicken - 1 1/2 boneless
thighs - was terrific. A huge amount of food, and it served
me in place of two meals at least.

Genova Deli (actually in Temescal) - try the spicy head
cheese, it's terrific. Also had tongue and peppered turkey
here, both above average but stuff you could get anyplace.

birthday 1
First was that of my friend Fisher: once, years ago, when
he was really depressed, I had taken him to the Chez
Panisse Cafe, where he had had a revitalizing meal, and for
his 61st birthday (I missed his 60th) he asked me to take
him back there. I agreed, made the arrangements, so on.
Unfortunately, he and I both became victims of a bad slice
of pecan pie that morning, and by the time our reservation
came around, I was severely intoxicated, and he was nearly
comatose. His wife had the hardest time dragging us into
the car - the 3-mile trip took two lifetimes at least - and
up the stairs. We sobered up with an excellent mango iced
tea, but that was insufficient. The meal was pleasant, I
think - I was sufficiently coherent to order a steak frites;
Fisher had the confit of duck with mesclun greens and
roasted figs; the long-suffering missus settled for some
saladic appetizer and the pasta of the day, whose identities
I didn't identify, as I was across the table and can hardly
see that far even in top condition. She did offer me a
taste, but I declined.

The steak was about 4-5 oz of bavette, done medium (I'd
asked for rare rare, but when the server suggested medium-
rare, I okayed that, which tells you something about my
pathetic state). The steak was not nearly so nice as if
it had been rare rare. The ribbon fries that came with
were of an exceedingly high order, as were three slices of
one of the best tomatoes I've ever tasted. The downside
was that the chimichurri that had been drizzled over the
meat and the tomatoes was way too assertive.

For dessert: a pear frangipane tart (excellent), and the
fruit bowl of the day, which, on inquiry, turned out to be
Windsor pear and Thompson seedless grapes. I asked, what
can one do with Thompson grapes? The server grinned and
said, they're delicious. The Windsor pear was very much
like a Comice or Doyenne - soft and buttery, aromatic,
moderately sweet. A bit over in spots I thought. But the
grapes were an eye-opener. Never again will I make fun of
Thompsons - these were little golden things, balanced
sweet and tart, a little honeyed, with explosive flavor,
about as similar to supermarket Thompsons as they were to
submachine guns.

By the end of the meal I was almost in a condition to
enjoy eating and would probably have tried to order a
second meal, but Fisher was increasingly comatose even as
I was sobering up. I almost thought we'd have to take him
to hospital, but he turned out okay.

Birthday #2. Bob hits the big six oh.

Zare's Fly Trap right by the Courtyard on 2nd, San
Francisco, which is a really nice little venue. Where to
serve 3 dozen folks? There's a tiny room off at the back,
curtained off as necessary, and it actually works for a
standup wine-and-noshes party of 3 hours. Most of the
guests were friends from the musical and theatrical world,
but there were a few others (everyone seemed to have a
musical or theatrical connection, though). Roberta had her
hands full keeping a secret with nearly 40 artistic and
absent-minded guests, but when Bob parted the curtain and
saw us all there, he did look a little nonplussed, so I
guess she (and we) did an okay job in the discretion
department.

Before the party I had a Sardinian red - Argiolas Monica
Perdera - the first being the winemaker, the second being
the grape variety, the third the trade name - that was full
of cooked berries and some dark sweet spice: rather
compotelike, in a good sense. No bargain at $10 a glass,
but still a satisfying drink, and what do you expect in
San Francisco? I asked for a second glass, for which the
bartender had to open a bottle, which was corked. Complaint
was heeded, and another bottle was opened, whereupon I gave
an impromptu lesson on TCA. There are now a couple more
patrons and one more bartender who know what corked wine is.

The house wine for the party was a bright, sort of Sauvignon
Blancish Verdelho. I finished the evening with this.

Food:

beet and goat cheese tartare - a confluence of two foods
that I can do without, and I did without;

Niman Ranch sliders - quite substantial - half-size burgers
on good firm-crusted buns, garnished with lettuce, tomato,
onion (or so I remember), and some kind of aioli;

salmon and cucumber things, the usual;

middle-eastern spiced meatballs with nuts and pomegranate
sauce - quite good, and I had like 4 of the substantial
little things;

grilled eggplant with yogurt sauce - good;

famous French fries - famous;

cake - by this time I was full and barely looked at mine.

The party started winding down at ninish, and Roberta's
cousin Robin and her consort (Kurt or Karl) gave me a lift
to SFO on their way south to Santa Something.

UA 54 SFO ORD 0600 1209 777 8H Ch9^ Empower^
was UA 134 SFO ORD 0836 1455 763 7K

I tried to get on the 2310 to Chicago, but the agents at the
desk swore up and down that it was oversold by 9, and they
could not justify putting me on the plane. Even in steerage,
I asked. No. So I went downstairs to baggage to snooze for a
few hours - a fairly satisfactory solution.

It was nearly 4 when I groggily raised my head, so up to
Mr. Chicken, who offered to give me biz on the 0600 if I
agreed to take the 1300 to Boston in coach. I declined,
wanting to lunch with my friend the Dodger and to return to
Boston in the front; decided to do my thing at the gate.

The gate was good to me. I'd had a forward-facing bed on my
original flight, but I sleep just as well in the regular
seats in the 777 mini-cabin. I slept.

Called up the Dodge to see how to get to his house, which
is near Northwestern, where he taught many years ago. No
problem, said he, Gina will pick you up. What kind of car?
A stretch limo. ???

Presently, a stretch limo pulled up. I marveled. I headed
for the door. April fool! wrong hat. So I went shamefacedly
back to the 28F cold and wondered what was what.

Presently, another stretch limo pulled up, and Gina popped
out of the back door and gave me a hug. Turns out she had
just gotten back from Patagonia and was treating herself to
a cushy ride home.

A quick stop home for Gina to get changed and for a cup of
tea (and the Dodger to show me his most precious possession,
featuring a watercolor by some Icelandic dude), then to Cafe
Convito for lunch. This is a food shop with cafe on the side
sort of in the European style, quite charming, the kind of
thing that makes money hand over fist in good times, and it
was good to see it at least surviving in tough ones.

I ordered a BLAT, the draw being the avocado, with its basil
aioli on the side. The sandwich was quite fine, ingredients
top notch, bread crusty and toasty, but not enough avocado.
I'm glad I got the aioli on the side, as there was at least
a half cup of it, and it didn't have any noticeable garlic.
Frites were thin and crisp.

Dodge, being secure in his manhood, enjoyed his quiche, and
Gina's special of half tuna salad and pastafazool was
reported to be good.

An icy and weird coconut sorbet for dessert; I didn't care
for it. They split the bread pudding, which likewise was
described as peculiar. Nonetheless, Gina got a chicken and
some other stuff at the deli for dinner.

Back to the airport in plenty of time for my flight: I had
asked for a ride to the 250, and the Dodger replied with a
sad tale about the last time he'd taken that worthy mode of
transport, and his driver had spent the entire time making
frustrated, threatening, and angry comments. So he took me
all the way to ORD, so I had two hours to squander drink
coupons at the Incomparable club.

UA 457 ORD BOS 1944 2255 319 2A Ch9^^ Empower:td:

A Courvoisier from the smiling middle-aged (i.e. a decade
younger than me) first flight attendant, and I was out
like a light for the whole flight.

The Topsfield Fair, the oldest agricultural fair in the
country, is a nostalgic must-see for me every few years.
The routine is the same: see the biggest pumpkin (sometimes
it's the biggest in the world - this year it was only
something like 1476 lb), have a turkey dinner at the
Congregational Church booth, watch Robinson's Racing Pigs,
check out the main entertainment attraction, which has been
everything from the Shangri-Las to (as this year) the Flying
Wallendas. The Wallendas are pretty remarkable, though their
act is constrained by the small size of the arena and of the
traveling troupe - so it's short though sweet. This year
featured the lovely Aurelia Wallenda doing frightening and
wonderful things on a rope swing as well as other feats of
balance by Karl and Alex (original Wallendas) and Trevor
(not an original). The culmination was Aurelia balancing on
a chair on a pole carried by Karl and Alex, who were riding
bicycles on the tightrope. Heart-stopping.

The Sheraton Ferncroft Resort, on rte 1 in Danvers, between
Middleton and Peabody, is a medium-size facility out in the
sticks; its proximity to Topsfield is perhaps its most
notable advantage, that and Coco Key, the cheesy indoor water
park next door. That being what it is, it prices out nicely on
Hotwire, and for the last couple weeks I've needed a pied a
terre on the north shore. It's been a while since the last
renovation, which is not surprising, as rumor has it it is
soon to become a Crowne Plaza or something. The rooms are
attractive enough, though the plumbing is outdated, and
Tradewinds, the restaurant and bar downstairs, is not bad,
especially important given the nowhereness of 5 miles north
of 128. Last time, my guest and I had had a pretty decent
meal; my baby backs from the regular menu were perhaps not
so smoked and falling off the bone as claimed, but they
were tender enough and abundant and not overcoated with a
sauce that, miracle of miracles these days, was tarter
than it was sweet. Ginger-scallion rice was old and nasty
- I doubt many orders of it go out -, and baby zucchini and
pattypan squash were not my favorite vegetable, though
fresh and tasty enough. There was a specials list with meals
at $8, 9, and 10. The $9 one was pot roast, a sizable chunk
of tender meat no doubt preprepared in a commissary far far
away and then trucked over, decent mash, and nondescript
vegetables from a boil-in-bag or the equivalent: uninspired
but a perfectly okay meal.

I was debating finding someplace else to eat, but check-in,
even with the third-party reservation, gave me an SPG gold
amenity of free breakfast and a free appetizer at the bar.
What, free? Okay, deal. The perky attendant at the slammed
bar (lots of business-suited people!) suggested we maximize
our bang for the free buck with the bacon-wrapped scallops,
which she said were terrific. Oddly, they were. Three U15s
(over an ounce each), wrapped in good not-too-lean-not-too-
fatty bacon, and broiled so the bacon was done and the
scallop meat still tender with pearly juice inside. The bed
was fresh mesclun, and an orange-ginger-pepper drool, kind
of tasty, had been squeezed around the plate.

There had been quite a comedy of errors with the beer - the
gas cartridge was out; then the Sam Seasonal handle, it
turns out, was screwed onto the Harpoon IPA tap, which was
academic, as they were out of both. Eventually, with the
combined expertise of the evening manager, the barmaid,
and some guy from the kitchen, one tap out of four was
coaxed into dispensing liquid. It was regular Sam. In the
meantime, we were offered fresh-made popcorn, which had a
little zing to it - upon query, the young woman admitted to
having spiked the cooking oil with a bit of hot sauce. I
hope they keep these staff when the changeover comes.

We then ordered sandwiches, but presently, the businessy
people vacated the rest of the bar, being summoned to dinner
at Legal Seafoods (a 8-mi hike), and donated their as yet
unarrived appetizer to us. We tried first to refuse and then
to give it to the barmaid, no success. It was calamari, also
of a higher standard than one expects of hotels, bars, and
free food. The rings and tentacles were crisp and tender,
served with ramekins of remoulade and what looked like
cocktail sauce but tasted like a sweet pepper sauce with
cinnamon, ginger, and curry spices. Interesting. Hypothesis:
Asian in the kitchen, probably a recent cooking school grad.

We were getting filled up. Nonetheless, our sandwiches came.

My burger rare was medium-rare, but I wasn't going to
quibble. Decent meat, a quite good bun, lettuce, onion,
tomato (mushy and starchy), and thin pickle slices. I asked
for fruit as my side - the usual United Airlines-like medley
of cantaloupe, honeydew, and pineapple.

My guest ordered a reuben with waffle fries. I tasted both.
They were both salty but quite good, the corned beef of
excellent flavor.

The room was pleasant, the caveat being, as with most hotel
rooms, the walls were thin, and one could hear all that was
going on in the adjacent rooms. Including some obnoxious kid
squalling and squalling, and the ?daddy shouting stuff like
"shut up and lay down, or else!" If I had a recorder on my
phone, I'd have considered calling child protective
services. The hubbub died out eventually, but nonetheless
I was really glad to get out of there early in the morning.

I got to the train station quite early. The previous trains
all cost quite a bit more then the one I'd reserved and
would get me to the hotel way before checkin, so I camped
out at the station (unpleasantly drafty throughout, with
the huge high ceilings, low fuel budgets, and sliding doors
that opened to the platforms on the slightest if any
provocation), and this night had had the first frost) and
read some stuff for a while (billable).

2V 171 BOS EWR 0815 1257

Boarding was announced about 10 of, so the queue formed,
but there was nobody to check tickets (one of these new
useless security measures), so while most of the folks
stood around freezing their buns off, I scurried back into
the relative warmth of the station. Eventually boarding
happened, and we pulled off on time. I snoozed in the quiet
car for most of the trip. Alit at the station right on time.
In order to reach the sanctum sanctorum of EWR you have to
have a magnetic-coded card that lets you OUT of the train
station, either that or flag down an employee who inspects
your Amtrak ticket and lets you out personally.

The Fairfield Inn Newark Airport had a quite good rate, so
I pounced on that for two Marriott nights. A perfect
opportunity to go someplace quiet and catch up on work for
a couple days before SZG's birthday event.

It's a perfectly decent property in a perfectly crap
location: right across US1 from the airport, but the traffic
pattern is such that it's 2 1/2 miles by shuttle to this
godforsaken area - not neighborhood - where there are three
Marriott properties and absolutely nothing else.

They put me, as they often do, in an accessible room by the
elevator: fine with me, except that occasionally I could
hear the elevator bell, and, once, ominously, the alarm
buzzer. Big bathroom, perfect for doing wheelies in a
chair (which I do not generally use). Semi-comfy bed - too
soft, though, with two kinds of pillows - squishy and very
squishy. One of the lamps looked as though somebody had
thrown it against a wall. But on the whole clean and not
unattractive. There's no restaurant - for that, you have to
walk next door (no sidewalk) to the Courtyard.

Supper at the Courtyard. The place was jammed, with some
familiar faces from next door sprinkled amid the crowd.
Service was willing but slow, and the staff are apparently
trained to reply to everything with "my pleasure." Would you
like some more water, sir? Yes please. My pleasure. The
check, please. My pleasure. It got to remind me of the joke
where the kid testifying in court is told that all his
answers must be oral. I had a Courtyard Burger rare and a
beer. The beer was skunky. I ordered another beer, okay. I
got charged for only one beer, despite the fact that I had
drunk the spoiled one, too. The burger itself was, as most
Angus things are, kind of tasteless though done rare as
requested. Its bun, though, partway between a Bretzel roll
and a Kaiser roll, was excellent, as were the battered fried
potatoes on the side. A rather spooky walk back next door
(no sidewalk, no lights except from the highway).

The bed, as I said, was squishy but okay, and I slept a good
6 hours.

Went down for the breakfast, but just as I exited the
elevator there was a huge commotion, shouts of outrage,
followed by the sound of pounding feet. From what I heard
from witnesses, these two white guys in the lobby knocked
down a Chinese lady and ran off with her stuff. So much for
the illusion of security, and a certain reinforcement of my
estimation of the perfectly crap location.

Breakfast: Jimmy Dean sausage-egg-cheese biscuits, yogurt,
many pastry things (croissants, Danish, Sara Lee pound
cake, that sort of thing), cereal, oatmeal, hard-boiled eggs
(for Atkinsonians), a waffle station, and some of the
ugliest coffee I've had in a long time - it tasted like weak
lamb broth -, plus the so-called decaf wasn't decaf. Fresh
fruit, of which I took a couple bananas for lunch. There were
chocolate muffins, by the way, as well; these were dreadful.

I found the same brand of coffee (Bold Beginnings) in the
room, and later, I brewed up a pot of decaf, which wasn't
bad at all. There was something weird about the stuff in the
breakfast room.

Back to work for the day, only the caffeine had me jittering
so effective endeavor was impossible. Hence this report.

It had become chilly and rainy during the day, and the
Courtyard didn't appeal again, and I really didn't feel
like making an effort to go out to find a decent dinner,
and nobody had heeded my CommunityBuzz query on that topic
anyhow, so I went down to the front desk and got a handful
of change and became altogether too intimate with Chester
Cheetah and his wonderful crunchy snacks from the vending
machine. I also got some work done, finally.

Enveloped myself in the soft bed and pillows and got some
decent sleep before the first shuttle at 0400. I should
have taken the 0430, as there is a red line at security
now - I just asked the guard to open the tape, and she did.
Five minutes even after a wheelchair.

People were jockeying into position to be first through the
RCC door! O silliness. The club opened at 0455.

UA 635 EWR ORD 0600 0715 320 2A Ch9:td: Empower:td:

Boarding was smooth and right on time. As I waited on the
jetway the cockpit crew pushed past, flustered at being a
bit late. A jolly greeting at the door by two cutish FAs.

I was one of the last up front, and all the overheads were
stuffed. I went back and stole someone's spot in Y.

I asked a smiling FA to inquire about Ch9 - the smile came
off; she said that she already had, with the predictable
result. XM Pops seems to have gotten more banal than ever.

Breakfast: a muffin and fruit. I passed.

Snoozed until the bumpy landing about 5 minutes late.

In her goodbye message the purser thanked the Mileage Plus
customers, especially, she said, all the Million Milers. On
the way out I asked how many of us there were aboard. Three.

Walking past the food court I began to regret not having
had breakfast so scouted out the neighborhood. Huge line at
Billy Goat; the pizzas at Reggio's looked bizarre; so Manchu
Wok it was. There was a "manager's special" of eggplant with
garlic sauce, plus the spicy tofu didn't look so bad. So I
asked for those. The girl behind the counter thoughtfully
warned me that there was chicken in the eggplant dish, for
which I thanked her.

When I was a child, my Mandarin was better than it is now
(i.e., bad vs. horrible), and I had a hard time telling the
difference between the word for eggplant and that for shoes.
This day, the eggplant, briefly boiled in unsalted water it
appears, could have done a stand-in for shoes. Its sauce was
vinegar and sugar (the garlic didn't kick in until the
second coming, which was 15 minutes later at the RCC). The
chicken bits weren't bad, surprisingly enough. And I imagine
the dish was nearly fat-free, which eggplant seldom is.

The tofu was your regular tofu in brown sauce, except that
the brown sauce was totally bland (bad soy sauce I imagine),
and there was an abundance of red flakes that tried without
success to give it some semblance of piquancy.

Still, probably better than Reggio's shrivelled pizzas or
the Billy Goat's breakfast sandwiches. And there was the
pleasant peculiarity of seeing people in line for Chinese
food at 0730 in Chicago.

The otherworldly Rhapsody in the B-C tunnel has come back,
or at least it's been cranked up so as to be audible.

Off to the Incomparable club for a couple of hours.

UA 1 ORD HNL 1020 1415 777 4A Ch9^^ Empower^

Big old scrum at boarding. I suppose people were eager to
leave Chicago for warmer parts.

The pilot announced Ch9 and the fact that we were on a 777,
"one of the finest aircraft in the fleet."

A very chirpy very senior crew, probably also eager to leave
Chicago for warmer parts.

Funny thing heard on Ch9.

- Metering United 595 at [location] with Alpha.
- Which United was that?
- Aaaah, that's American 595 at [location] with Alpha.
- That makes more sense.

The cabin feels pretty cramped, the tradeoff one gets for
36 F seats. When the people in front were fully reclined
(there is decent recline), I had a heck of a time getting
out. Also, my seat seemed to totally lack padding, and
after 8 hours my butt was feeling pretty wretched.

The mai tai mix was Mr. & Mrs. T's. I reined in my natural
curiosity and had a glass of red instead: Trapiche Malbec
08 - wild cherry, spice on the nose, a singularly empty
palate and a short finish. At least it wasn't too sweet.

Warmed nuts with lots of macadamias.

The choice was Trader Vic's Mongolian chicken with Asian
noodles or pan-seared mahi-mahi. I asked for whatever came,
confident for the fish. A guy in the middle section wanted
the chicken but got the fish (he said that was okay and
dug right in; it had a nice coconut curry-like smell), the
result being that I ended up with his lunch, which was these
chicken-flavored stones drowned in what tasted like straight
Sriracha sauce. Very sweet, very spicy. Went all right with
the egg fried rice (pretty standard) and some extremely
overcooked bell peppers on the side. Not exactly Mongolian
and not exactly noodles. The salad was largely brown lettuce
bits with shrivelled radish slices and a dried-up olive;
Conway's balsamic vinaigrette, which doesn't taste balsamic
or vinaigrettish.

Dessert: some sort of very stale white cake with a decent
lemon buttercream.

My second fork was very dirty, so before eating my cake
I found a good secondary use for the Malbec.

A couple hours before landing the electricity went out in
the cabin - an annoyance, as I was doing a bit of work. No
video, no audio, no Empower, no overhead lights. At length
they got everything working but the Empower, so instead of
working any more I had a mai tai, which was considerably
better than that offered by US Air. The Empower came back
after the third or fourth reboot of the system.

A snack service: a cheese and fruit plate - good grapes,
decent pineapple, awful honeydew, okay yellow Cheddar,
weird pepperjack soap.

Washed the taste out of my mouth with a Courvoisier.

Argh! The %*^&$ in 3A suddenly and violently reclined her
seat into my laptop.

We landed just a hair early, with the purser giving a huge
disquisition on the history of the Hawaiian Islands and the
landing pattern. He said we'd be landing on the Reef Runway,
but actually we landed I think on 4R.

The #20 bus is a godsend. For 2.25 you can get to Waikiki
in an hour. Luggage beyond what fits under your seat and what
you can carry on your lap is forbidden; that prohibition
doesn't seem to be enforced, but as the bus gets crowded, I
can imagine glares and mutters being gotten by those who have
too much baggage.

Needing one Hilton night for silver (I'm a hotel amateur
compared to most of you) I'd booked into the Doubletree -
the bus goes within a couple blocks of the place - most
convenient. The staff were friendly, the chocolate chip
cookie warm and welcome, and the 17th floor room clean and
comfy. I immediately had a nap, anticipating an evening of
alcoholic abandon with szg and newself and perhaps others.

A quick walk past Moose McGillycuddy's, for which the most
notable comment on the Web is "where ugly people go to get
laid." I wondered what about ugly old people. Anyhow, as
there's no sign at Lewers St., I missed it, not tumbling to
this fact for several long blocks. Backtracked; szg, out
front, flagged me down, and we went in and, per instruction,
made ourselves known to Imee the barmaid, letting her know
that we were friends of newself and that he would be showing
up later.

A couple frosty Longboards, and then we were greeted by
SFOTerry and SFOMo, newself and Jeanne, and wijomas, in
that order, so we got a table. SFOTerry had made :rolleyes: hats
for us to wear at the party tomorrow.

Various kinds of cheap bar food - feeling the need for
protein, I had a burger, which was respectable and came with
an enormous mess of shoestring fries, which I couldn't
finish. More beers, and then I had a Singapore Sling for
giggles (it's on the Japanese drink menu but not the regular
one, for some reason) - this was okay but way sweet and had
a peculiar back taste that reminded me of mustard.

We were relatively sedate. I suppose that an average age of
somewhat over forty (even counting one who is not old enough
to be sold alcohol) might have something to do with it.

The party broke up around eleven, and I toddled home to
Doubletree, nitroglycerin pill, and bed.

Quite well-written and with great detail!
Enjoyed it - Thank-You!:D

I had bunches of work to do, leftover from last week, when
I lost my power supply, so didn't go sightseeing with folks.
Got a bunch of this work done but was seduced by the
discovery that, many though the deficiencies of this laptop
may be, its wireless sniffing is very acute. I found no
fewer than 5 unsecured networks from the building across the
way, one of which was fast enough to do FlyerTalk on.

Off to the Sheraton Princess Kaiulani, lunch on the way. I
passed on the idea of continuing my quest for the perfect
hamburger and instead went to Kenny's for a roast pork plate
lunch. A mistake - I guess nobody orders the roast pork,
which tasted a bit sour and off; its gravy was curdled and
unappealing even to me. The best things on the plate were
the mac salad (not too gooey with mayo) and the rice (about
which one could say nothing).

Check-in at the hotel was hampered by the only haole behind
the desk, who seemed to be monitoring the agents actually
doing the work but doing nothing herself.

I got a room upgrade to what passes for ocean view - at
some point in the distant past I suppose there might have
been one, but many buildings have been built in the last
millennium. Twenty or forty years ago I would have been
thrilled by this room, which might have been one of the
nicest on Waikiki back then. Now, well, it's an okay room.
To be fair, if I look out at 315 degrees, there's more than
a sliver of ocean there. Plus I get full benefit of the
live entertainment from the pool area.

Did lots of work; took a nap, which in my current fragile
condition was absolutely indicated.

We'd agreed to meet again at Moose's for drinks before
dinner, so around the appropriate time I hustled down there.

Imee was there to wait on us. Tried to get us to stay for
food but then caught herself, remembering that we were going
to Shore Bird at the Outrigger Reef, where she used to work.

Present: SFOMo, SFOTerry, newself, Jeannie, lili, szg, moi.

This open-air indoor restaurant of some repute works like
this: you get salad bar (base price, $14); then you get
add-ons, mostly steak, but some fishy things as well, for
an additional fee. Then it's a grill-your-own arrangement,
which is clever, as nobody can complain about the doneness
of their meat.

The salad bar, advertised as "could be a meal in itself,"
is your usual thing, with the local additions of lomi lomi
salmon (very bland), tako poke (pretty good), spaghetti and
sauce (didn't try), and chili, which I found better than
(zippier than) Zippy's.

Our end of the table got sirloin strips; the other end had
ribeye, top sirloin, and lobster tail. Somehow I was deputed
to or arrogated the role of grill cook. One rare and two
medium-rare; not a difficult order actually, and the steaks
were pretty good.

As it was szg's birthday, we were serenaded by the staff and
given a free brownie sundae with lots of spoons. Nobody said
anything rude about our :rolleyes: hats. Speaking of which,
SFOTerry and SFOMo had provided :rolleyes: cupcakes for the table
as well as a set of "crackling balls" for the honoree. Hours
of entertainment for the weak of mind! We freed up the table
and went to the bar for more drinks and to listen to karaoke
some of which was okay and some bad enough that lili opined
that she could do as well. Interesting to note that Macallan
("super premium") priced out less than umbrella drinks. It
was eventually time to say goodbye. On the walk back to our
respective hotels (a block apart), lili and I hatched a plan
to do the around-the-island-clockwise thing the next day.
Sadly, neither of us had szg's phone number to tell him:
earlier, he and wijomas had looked for helicopter adventures
and discovered that all of them, even the ones that said
"operates every day" were off the next day.

I'd arranged to meet lili at 0845. Woke at 0749 (one minute
before my alarm clock, whose horridness is incentive to such
precision) and was doing my ablutions when at 0800 there
was the seldom-welcome, and certainly not on Sunday early,
knock at the door: "housekeeping!" What th'??? Were they
making sure I was up in time for church or something? I
told them to go away.

lili was right in front of the Jimmy Buffett hotel (proper
name forgotten, Ohana something) as planned, and we strolled
back to the Outrigger, where she was assigned a black
Mustang convertible, which I thought a perfectly appropriate
choice. We headed west out of town, our destination Kaena
Point State Park, to which neither of us had ever been. On
the way, Long's Drug Store, where she got sunscreen and I
got gifts for those I'd be visiting soon - the usual stuff,
Kona coffee and mac nuts, cheaper here than on the beach.
We passed some beautiful mountains with cheap settlements
nestled up to them, a vast military tract, an area that
seemed to be the homeland of all native squatters, and
finally the park, which had a pretty beach on which we spent
the rest of the morning sunning ourselves. I'd forgotten how
nice it feels to go inert for a couple hours on a sunny
tract of sand.

We continued our around-the-island-the-other-way-than-usual
and found ourselves at Jameson's outside Haleiwa, where we
stopped for a late lunch. I had a chilled seafood plate:
a couple moderately good though opened in advance oysters,
what looked like six shrimp but turned out to be three
bisected longways and arranged to look like a more
substantial portion (sweet but kind of tasteless, needing
a dose of the soy-wasabi sauce provided for the tuna), and
a fairly large serving of ahi sashimi that was notable for
freshness but also for having been inexpertly trimmed of
membranes. Beer.

lili of course had a burger, which she pronounced "more
good than not." It came with cumin-dusted battered potato
wedges, which I kind of liked but she didn't.

Around the island with the top down, which was really fun.
We stopped for another tanning session at Kualoa Park, in
sight of the Chinaman's Hat, an odd-shaped island that is
a bit of a local landmark.

It was getting late in the afternoon and a bit cloudy, so
lili reluctantly roused me from my slumber, and we went
toward our final sightseeing destination, Nuuanu Pali,
which we had enjoyed so much last trip with KLC, BondAir007,
and bk3day. At about this point the heavens opened up in
one of those downpours that reminds you not so gently that
you're in the tropics.

Mr. Garmin decided to tell us to turn right on the Likelike
highway, and my protestation was too mild and too late,
owing to my doubting my memory regarding rte 63 vs. rte 61.
Which was fine, as it was raining really hard. Emerging from
the tunnel we saw a sliver of blue and decided to try for
the outlook anyway, so we found the 61 and made our way
there, to find it cold, windy, foggy and atmospheric in not
the best sense. It was a spooky sort of ambience, despite
there being busloads of tourists. One could imagine the
defenders of the island being pushed over a cliff by the
forces of Kamehameha I on such a day many centuries ago.

Somebody had some rare lizard in the parking lot, Jackson's
chameleon or something. lili reported that it looked like a
little triceratops.

Messages were checked, and it was discovered that szg would
yet again be interested in dinner, so lili dropped me off at
Moose's, where I had a beer, and then, alerted to the fact
that umbrella drinks were half off or something, had a
Mooseberry, which was not much different from any other
umbrella drink. lili, after returning the Mustang, joined us
a bit later, so we constituted the same roster less wijomas,
who was on his way to San Diego. After a pleasant happy hour
(despite Imee's being off) we toddled down to the other end
of the beach, where Lulu's awaited us. It's a touristy
place with reported good food and cheap booze, so why not.

Again not being in the most adventurous or imaginative of
moods, I got surf 'n' turf - five garlic shrimp and a 10 oz
strip. The food was good but not of particularly local
origin - the shrimp were Gulf of Mexico and the beef some
kind of mainland. lili's 10 oz prime rib was considerably
bigger than that, so I was ceded more than a taste of it -
tender and perfectly fine. The others had crab-stuffed (I
think) mahi-mahi, which looked abundant and tasty.

Eventually it was time to say goodbye and happy contrails
to us all.

We arranged to meet at 0845. Woke at 0749 (one minute before
my alarm clock, whose horridness is incentive to such
precision) and was doing my ablutions when at 0800 there
was the seldom-welcome, and certainly not on Sunday early,
knock at the door: "housekeeping!" What th'??? Were they
making sure I was up in time for church or something? I
told them to go away.

lili was right in front of the Jimmy Buffett hotel (proper
name forgotten, Ohana something) as planned, and we strolled
back to the Outrigger, where she was assigned a black
Mustang convertible, which I thought a perfectly appropriate
choice. We headed west out of town, our destination Kaena
Point State Park, to which neither of us had ever been. On
the way, Long's Drug Store, where she got sunscreen and I
got gifts for those I'd be visiting soon - the usual stuff,
Kona coffee and mac nuts, cheaper here than on the beach.
We passed some beautiful mountains with cheap settlements
nestled up to them, a vast military tract, an area that
seemed to be the homeland of all native squatters, and
finally the park, which had a pretty beach on which we spent
the rest of the morning sunning ourselves. I'd forgotten how
nice it feels to go inert for a couple hours on a sunny
tract of sand.

We continued our around-the-island-the-other-way-than-usual
and found ourselves at Jameson's outside Haleiwa, where we
stopped for a late lunch. I had a chilled seafood plate:
a couple moderately good though opened in advance oysters,
what looked like six shrimp but turned out to be three
bisected longways and arranged to look like a more
substantial portion (sweet but kind of tasteless, needing
a dose of the soy-wasabi sauce provided for the tuna), and
a fairly large serving of ahi sashimi that was notable for
freshness but also for having been inexpertly trimmed of
membranes. Beer.

lili of course had a burger, which she pronounced "more
good than not." It came with cumin-dusted battered potato
wedges, which I kind of liked but she didn't.

Around the island with the top down, which was really fun.
We stopped for another tanning session at Kualoa Park, in
sight of the Chinaman's Hat, an odd-shaped island that is
a bit of a local landmark.

It was getting late in the afternoon and a bit cloudy, so
lili reluctantly roused me from my slumber, and we went
toward our final sightseeing destination, Nuuanu Pali,
which we had enjoyed so much last trip with KLC, BondAir007,
and bk3day. At about this point the heavens opened up with
one of those downpours that reminds you not so gently that
you're in the tropics.

Mr. Garmin decided to tell us to turn right on the Likelike
highway, and my protestation was too mild and too late,
owing to my doubting my memory regarding rte 63 vs. rte 61.
Which was fine, as it was raining really hard. Emerging from
the tunnel we saw a sliver of blue and decided to try for
the outlook anyway, so we found the 61 and made our way
there, to find it cold, windy, foggy and atmospheric in not
the best sense. It was a spooky sort of ambience, despite
there being busloads of tourists. One could imagine the
defenders of the island being pushed over a cliff by the
forces of Kamehameha I on such a day many centuries ago.
Conditions did not encourage lingering.

Somebody had some rare lizard in the parking lot, Jackson's
chameleon or something. lili reported that it looked like a
little triceratops.

Messages were checked, and it was discovered that szg would
yet again be interested in dinner, so lili dropped me off at
Moose's, where the gang had assembled, minus wijomas, who
was on his way to San Diego. I had a beer, and then, alerted
to the fact that umbrella drinks were half off or something,
had a Mooseberry, which was not much different from any
other umbrella drink. lili, after returning the Mustang,
joined us a bit later. After a pleasant (despite Imee's
being off) happy hour, we toddled down to the other end
of the beach, where Lulu's awaited us. It's a touristy
place with reported good food and cheap booze, so why not.

Again not being in the most adventurous or imaginative of
moods, I got surf 'n' turf - five garlic shrimp and a 10 oz
strip. The food was good but not of particularly local
origin - the shrimp were Gulf of Mexico and the beef some
kind of mainland. lili's 10 oz prime rib was considerably
bigger than that, so I was ceded more than a taste of it -
tender and perfectly fine. The others had crab-stuffed (I
think) mahi-mahi, which looked abundant and tasty.

Eventually it was time to say goodbye and happy contrails
to us all.

I had turned down late checkout in the mistaken impression
of having a noontime flight, so there was lots of time to
wander around, have lunch, and so on. lili had recommended
a find of hers - cheap and unpretentious, tasty food, steps
from my hotel - the Seaside Bar and Grill, which as it turns
out is an iDine place. Went by and found it unbearably
seedy - I'd have been perfectly okay with taking a flyer on
the food, but the down-and-outness made me not eager to give
it my credit card; I chickened out in favor of the known
mediocrity of L&L. The mini short-rib plate lunch was pretty
standard, more mini in the meat department and a little more
maxi in the big scoop mac salad and enormous scoop rice than
I recalled from years past.

There was still plenty of time, so I spent an hour and $2.25
on the enormously crowded #20 bus to the airport. Checkin
took mere seconds, as did security.

I gave the staff my boarding pass, and they demanded that I
show my RCC card. I believe this is a misreading of the new
rule, but whatever. A note to the Voice yielded a canned
admonition to check the Website (which is inaccurate on this
question, as many of you know).

There's free booze.

UA 2 HNL ORD 1620 0521 777 3H ch9:td: Empower^

My seatmate was a pretty young woman who showed me what she
was reading ("Secrets of the Millionaire Mind") and then,
when I expressed uninterest, told me that she didn't care
for money, just what it could do for her. She surveyed the
front cabin and marveled that her buddy couldn't get
upgraded, despite there being a couple dozen empties. Just
before departure, though, there was a huge influx of older
guys, all with a certain bearing. Their heartily audible
conversation indicates that they were all (probably retired)
brass coming back from a generals' convention, with a couple
cadreish-looking Chinese guys in tow. I soon got bored with
my surroundings and looked forward (?) to a hot meal and a nap.

Dinner: macadamia-crusted chicken, mashed potatoes, baby
squash or mahi-mahi with rice and vegetables, I believe
the same as on the outbound. I asked for whatever came,
confident for the fish. I got the chicken, which was okay,
the chicken not too dry as protected by a large quantity of
crushed nuts. The salad had no redeeming social value; nor
did the dessert, which was the same stale lemon cake as on
the outbound, only slightly less stale.

Duc de Foix was a clean, tasteless, slightly lemony Cava,
and I drank a fair amount of it. If you aren't under the
delusion that it's Champagne, it's okay.

More of that Trapiche Malbec with dinner, and so to bed.

I woke to find Globe Trekker on, the China episode: it
struck me as a slightly shallower than usual travel show
presented by slightly unappealing adolescents. Back to bed.

We landed right on time, and I was dismayed to find that
all the military folk made a beeline for the Incomparable
club, whereupon a vast number of polloi followed and did
likewise, crowding the big departures monitor upstairs and
then the desk downstairs. Lots of people taking advantage
of the crush and skirting the admission screening. I turned
tail and went to the C club, which was nearer my gate anyhow.

UA7099 ORD EWR 0717 1017 CR7 2A

This flight remains a closed book to me, as I was out from
before takeoff to touchdown. Sometimes I wonder about my
selfishness at taking a premium seat only to sleep the whole
flight away. Well, probably the sleeping isn't so sound in
coach.

Rio Douro is gone, and I didn't feel like spending Gallagher
prices for a mediocre at best steak, so I just got one of
those Angus burgers at Mickey Dee's. It actually wasn't too
bad, as meat pucks go.

CO1128 EWR BOS 1300 1411 735 14F

CO gave me the unlimited-legroom exit row seat on this
flight, perhaps because I'd used my AS number. I suppose
that henceforth I'll use one of my * cards and get the same
consideration? It was a good seat and a good flight.
Of course I slept.

The flight was right on time, as was my ride.
-33-

As always, great to see another Violist TR.

As to the DT in Wakiwaki - the website disclaims work in the public areas. Was it bad or ????

Thanks. There were no signs of work in the lobby. Perhaps it was
in the relaxed Hawaiian style, so I didn't notice it?

Thank you for your trip report - well done.

UA 2 HNL-ORD sounds like a complete disaster from a food quality standpoint - Example: Stale lemon cake being served in F on an 8 hour flight.

:td: UA

Even AA still serves ice cream sundaes on these flights (i.e. HNL-DFW).

^ AA