QuietLion
Sep 22, 01, 10:50 am
No towers
Hunnybear and I weren’t about to cancel our weekend in New York just because of some terrorist attacks so we switched our Starwood Free Weekend from W The Court to W Union Square and triple-checked our flight arrangements to make sure they were still on. Hunnybear was taking United from Lansing, Mich., and I had booked my first transcon on Continental because United had given up competing on price or service.
I had a 10:30 a.m. flight. Normally I would have taken a 9:30 taxi for the 10-minute ride to LAX but today I ordered a cab for 8:15 because of admonitions to arrive at least two hours before flight time. Traffic was light as usual all the way to the airport, where the north Sepulveda entrance remained closed and the Century entrance was still available only to commercial vehicles such as my cab. The airport was a ghost town, almost post-Apocalyptic, empty except for a few shuttles and buses. The last few cars remained in the off-limits central parking garage, waiting for their owners to return from extended trips and claim them, never to return. It wasn’t only New York that was hit.
We pulled up to Terminal 6. I gave the driver an extra buck just because and I wheeled by Briggs & Riley into the concourse. There was a healthy line for economy check-in but none at either the E-ticket kiosks or First Class. I chose the latter because I wanted to make sure it all worked. I showed my ID and asked a smiling but concerned agent if I could carry on my two bags as usual: my Briggs & Riley expandable with garment carrier and my Brenthaven laptop bag. She said they should be fine as long as I wasn’t carrying any shaving equipment. I asked about Mach 3 cartridges and several agents discussed the answer among themselves before replying they were OK today but last week they had confiscated them. I mentioned it looked like I had arrived far too early and she agreed. She offered to put me on the 9:00 flight and I agreed provided I could get First Class. No problem. It was already boarding.
About 15 people waited in line at the foot of the escalator to have tickets and IDs checked. Then at the top of the escalator the process was repeated. Security was as usual except there were more of them standing around and they made me put my cell phone and digital voice recorder through the x-ray. I had my ID scrutinized one more time by a serious-looking Continental agent just before boarding. I felt safe.
I wheeled down the Jetway, turned left, and found a fabled BusinessFirst cabin. I had seat 3B. More than half the 16 roomy seats were filled with uniformed Continental employees, including my seat opponent, a Cleveland-based flight attendant. Legroom was ample and the seat had nice electronic controls, a footrest, and multi-channel personal video. I got a coat-hanging service and a preflight coffee in a plastic cup and settled in for a nice flight. New electronic headsets came in a plastic bag with a note saying you could keep them. I kept a pair for a spare but whipped out my new Bose noise-cancelers for the duration. In coach, an announcement explained the movie was free if you brought your own headsets, the opposite of traditional practice.
We took off on time and quickly broke through the marine layer. It was a nice sunny day in LA if you weren’t on the earth’s surface. They quickly started the movies. They were all wrong compared to the program listing but I found a classic, Monkey Business, starring Cary Grant with Marilyn Monroe in a supporting role. As soon as the movie started the captain made his radio address over the dialogue. The video system did not automatically pause as it did on some United flights.
Breakfast was a choice of omelet, crepes, or cereal. I took the omelet. It came with a tablecloth and was preceded by an appetizer course of papaya and two large, delicious strawberries. They served it with regular silverware except for the knives, which were white plastic. Next came a choice of hot breads. I picked a fluffy orange-cranberry muffin. The main course included bacon, sausage, and tiny potato pancakes. It was all relatively good.
The movie finished and I switched to the main feature to watch classic episodes of Brady Bunch and The Odd Couple. A second food service came, a small but tasty plate of cheese and crackers not quite as generous as the one National serves on the 38-minute flight from Vegas to LA. I didn’t hear any announcement that the second video program would be starting but when I turned back there was an extremely annoying Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis movie on so I watched that and played with Monkeyboy until we started our descent into Newark.
Our approach took us on a path parallel to the Manhattan skyline from north to south. Through the haze and low clouds I could not tell if there was still smoke smoldering from the World Trade Center site but there were definitely no towers there. All the passengers craned their necks to look out. We looked in silence. We landed 25 minutes early.
We waited on the taxiway for some traffic and then headed for the gate. I gathered my belongings and wheeled them out into the concourse. There was a voice mail from Continental saying my return flight was canceled and I should call them. I decided to wait until I could hook up Monkeyboy and check schedules before returning the call. Hunnybear called immediately after. She had just landed in Chicago and had made her tight connection to LaGuardia with nine minutes to spare.
With plenty of time to get to New York before Hunnybear I decided to take the bus to Grand Central Station. I bought a ticket for $11 and waited only a few minutes for the coach. I had a view of a long row of Continental jets, mostly DC-10s. Transient parking next to the bus stop, formerly available to users of Continental’s small-package courier service, was now coned off with warning signs from the FAA. The bus pulled in and a kid loaded my bag underneath after asking where I was going. The ticket agent had thought Penn Station was closer to Union Square but I stuck with Grand Central because I knew I knew how to walk down Park Ave. to the W. The third option, according to the sign behind the counter, was World Trade Center. I didn’t ask.
It was all economy seating so I grabbed a seat next to a Japanese man and across the aisle from an Israeli couple. Friday-evening traffic was nonexistent on the New Jersey Turnpike but as soon as we got off it was bumper to bumper all the way to the Lincoln Tunnel tollbooth. The driver kept a safe 3-inch following distance the whole way.
I kept looking at the skyline but there was an obnoxious mesh spray-painted with advertising covering most of the windows on the bus. There were still no towers and I couldn’t even pick out where they used to be. I did see the Chrysler building, though, and the Empire State, somehow standing taller and more alone than ever before in a proud New York-style **** you to the terrorists.
Huge Old Glories hung over each of the three branches of the Lincoln Tunnel and the traffic was light the rest of the way to Grand Central. Sidewalk hustlers worked hard as usual, this week doing a brisk business in American flags as people stopped their cars and jumped out, engines running, to buy one or five. Banners hung up and down the street in front of Macy’s proclaiming “New York & Co., Shopping Capital of the World!” To make that come true this season, I thought, would require a true miracle on 34th St.
An hour and a quarter after the bus left Newark we arrived at Grand Central Station. It was a beautiful evening, in the mid-70s with a few clouds. I clipped my bags together and wheeled downtown towards Union Square, a little over the 20 city blocks that made a mile in the City. I wheeled past the Sheraton Russell with its matched pair of stone Russell terriers out front, and got a glimpse of the Empire State Building up close, now after dusk lit up red, white, and blue.
New York lived on. Women still dressed smartly, some swapping pumps for tennis shoes just for the walk home from work. Drunken derelicts still talked to themselves, or to nobody. A look through the window of the Hotel Giraffe revealed a couple engaged in a long necking session. Men in white shirts and red ties still sat waiting in black cars. A thousand demonstrators, chanting and carrying signs proclaiming their disapproval of war, walked up Park Ave. “Break the cycle of violence,” one sign read. I wondered how many free shots its owner would give the terrorists. No, I thought, it was too late for New York to turn the other tower.
I got to the W and checked in with a nice clerk named Willy. I showed my Plutonium card and asked if we could possibly have a So Very Suite or a Way Suite or even a Toot Suite but it was not possible because the 90 Free Fridays in town. We had already been upgraded to a Spectacular room but he bumped us up one level to a Sommelier room. I went up and found an ordinary hotel room with a peek of a park view. Finally I could see the smoke, brightly illuminated by electric lights, from the still-smoldering disaster site.
Michael and RichG, New Yorkers, came over to have a drink with me while we waited for Hunnybear to arrive. We had a lovely waitress, Harmony, who took care of us in the signature W comfy lounge. The hotel restaurant at the W Union Square was Olive’s, part of the same chain as the one at Bellagio in Las Vegas. I found out you could order the yummy olive tapanade in the lounge while waiting for a table so you get double tapanade. I ordered a Manhattan in honor of New York City and Michael ordered a whisky sour in honor of he liked whisky sours. RichG had a couple doubles.
Hunnybear arrived, as did Michael’s beautiful girlfriend Claudia, and we put our name in for a table at Olive’s. I told Harmony if a bribe was necessary it was no problem but apparently it was not. We got a VIP booth in the back and ordered a nice bottle of Santa Barbara syrah. It was all good, although not up to the Vegas restaurant in any respect I thought. I had a decent paella and Hunnybear had some kind of red fish. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but Hunnybear and I split just one piece of banana chocolate cake.
There were a handful of firemen in the bar blowing off steam. I talked to one, John, who said frankly they all felt more comfortable when they were at the site instead of being forced to take days off. I told him I realized many people had probably been coming up to him but I just had to add my thanks. We embraced.
We went up to the room to surf the Internet a bit and saw the management of the three pyramid-topped buildings west of Union Square had attempted to illuminate them with red, white, and blue lights but they somehow came out mauve, taupe, and aubergine. We tried to hook up the high-speed Internet access and I was shocked to learn it had not yet been installed in this W. The WebTV ran at a turtle’s pace and the dialup line maxed out at 24k baud. It wasn’t what I expected from a brand-new hotel but frankly I had other things on my mind. We bid goodnight to Michael and Claudia and slept as best we could.
Lion pause:
Last time in New York, Hunnybear and I watched The Out-of-Towners. Compared with today’s issues, the crowds, storms, and muggings seem like the stuff of fairy tales. Kevin couldn’t come to New York this time because he and Lara were attending a wedding in Sequim, Wash. (pronounced “squim.”) I admonished them to be careful because there were indications Sequim could be the terrorists’ next target. The skyscraper was the symbol of the industrial age, so much so that Chrysler Motors built the world’s tallest one in the midst of a city less dependent on cars than any other in America. Will anyone want to work in such a high-profile building again?
------------------
I hope you enjoy my Lion Tales. For photos, past travelogues, subscriptions, and more, see www.liontales.com (http://www.liontales.com)
[This message has been edited by QuietLion (edited 09-22-2001).]
Hunnybear and I weren’t about to cancel our weekend in New York just because of some terrorist attacks so we switched our Starwood Free Weekend from W The Court to W Union Square and triple-checked our flight arrangements to make sure they were still on. Hunnybear was taking United from Lansing, Mich., and I had booked my first transcon on Continental because United had given up competing on price or service.
I had a 10:30 a.m. flight. Normally I would have taken a 9:30 taxi for the 10-minute ride to LAX but today I ordered a cab for 8:15 because of admonitions to arrive at least two hours before flight time. Traffic was light as usual all the way to the airport, where the north Sepulveda entrance remained closed and the Century entrance was still available only to commercial vehicles such as my cab. The airport was a ghost town, almost post-Apocalyptic, empty except for a few shuttles and buses. The last few cars remained in the off-limits central parking garage, waiting for their owners to return from extended trips and claim them, never to return. It wasn’t only New York that was hit.
We pulled up to Terminal 6. I gave the driver an extra buck just because and I wheeled by Briggs & Riley into the concourse. There was a healthy line for economy check-in but none at either the E-ticket kiosks or First Class. I chose the latter because I wanted to make sure it all worked. I showed my ID and asked a smiling but concerned agent if I could carry on my two bags as usual: my Briggs & Riley expandable with garment carrier and my Brenthaven laptop bag. She said they should be fine as long as I wasn’t carrying any shaving equipment. I asked about Mach 3 cartridges and several agents discussed the answer among themselves before replying they were OK today but last week they had confiscated them. I mentioned it looked like I had arrived far too early and she agreed. She offered to put me on the 9:00 flight and I agreed provided I could get First Class. No problem. It was already boarding.
About 15 people waited in line at the foot of the escalator to have tickets and IDs checked. Then at the top of the escalator the process was repeated. Security was as usual except there were more of them standing around and they made me put my cell phone and digital voice recorder through the x-ray. I had my ID scrutinized one more time by a serious-looking Continental agent just before boarding. I felt safe.
I wheeled down the Jetway, turned left, and found a fabled BusinessFirst cabin. I had seat 3B. More than half the 16 roomy seats were filled with uniformed Continental employees, including my seat opponent, a Cleveland-based flight attendant. Legroom was ample and the seat had nice electronic controls, a footrest, and multi-channel personal video. I got a coat-hanging service and a preflight coffee in a plastic cup and settled in for a nice flight. New electronic headsets came in a plastic bag with a note saying you could keep them. I kept a pair for a spare but whipped out my new Bose noise-cancelers for the duration. In coach, an announcement explained the movie was free if you brought your own headsets, the opposite of traditional practice.
We took off on time and quickly broke through the marine layer. It was a nice sunny day in LA if you weren’t on the earth’s surface. They quickly started the movies. They were all wrong compared to the program listing but I found a classic, Monkey Business, starring Cary Grant with Marilyn Monroe in a supporting role. As soon as the movie started the captain made his radio address over the dialogue. The video system did not automatically pause as it did on some United flights.
Breakfast was a choice of omelet, crepes, or cereal. I took the omelet. It came with a tablecloth and was preceded by an appetizer course of papaya and two large, delicious strawberries. They served it with regular silverware except for the knives, which were white plastic. Next came a choice of hot breads. I picked a fluffy orange-cranberry muffin. The main course included bacon, sausage, and tiny potato pancakes. It was all relatively good.
The movie finished and I switched to the main feature to watch classic episodes of Brady Bunch and The Odd Couple. A second food service came, a small but tasty plate of cheese and crackers not quite as generous as the one National serves on the 38-minute flight from Vegas to LA. I didn’t hear any announcement that the second video program would be starting but when I turned back there was an extremely annoying Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis movie on so I watched that and played with Monkeyboy until we started our descent into Newark.
Our approach took us on a path parallel to the Manhattan skyline from north to south. Through the haze and low clouds I could not tell if there was still smoke smoldering from the World Trade Center site but there were definitely no towers there. All the passengers craned their necks to look out. We looked in silence. We landed 25 minutes early.
We waited on the taxiway for some traffic and then headed for the gate. I gathered my belongings and wheeled them out into the concourse. There was a voice mail from Continental saying my return flight was canceled and I should call them. I decided to wait until I could hook up Monkeyboy and check schedules before returning the call. Hunnybear called immediately after. She had just landed in Chicago and had made her tight connection to LaGuardia with nine minutes to spare.
With plenty of time to get to New York before Hunnybear I decided to take the bus to Grand Central Station. I bought a ticket for $11 and waited only a few minutes for the coach. I had a view of a long row of Continental jets, mostly DC-10s. Transient parking next to the bus stop, formerly available to users of Continental’s small-package courier service, was now coned off with warning signs from the FAA. The bus pulled in and a kid loaded my bag underneath after asking where I was going. The ticket agent had thought Penn Station was closer to Union Square but I stuck with Grand Central because I knew I knew how to walk down Park Ave. to the W. The third option, according to the sign behind the counter, was World Trade Center. I didn’t ask.
It was all economy seating so I grabbed a seat next to a Japanese man and across the aisle from an Israeli couple. Friday-evening traffic was nonexistent on the New Jersey Turnpike but as soon as we got off it was bumper to bumper all the way to the Lincoln Tunnel tollbooth. The driver kept a safe 3-inch following distance the whole way.
I kept looking at the skyline but there was an obnoxious mesh spray-painted with advertising covering most of the windows on the bus. There were still no towers and I couldn’t even pick out where they used to be. I did see the Chrysler building, though, and the Empire State, somehow standing taller and more alone than ever before in a proud New York-style **** you to the terrorists.
Huge Old Glories hung over each of the three branches of the Lincoln Tunnel and the traffic was light the rest of the way to Grand Central. Sidewalk hustlers worked hard as usual, this week doing a brisk business in American flags as people stopped their cars and jumped out, engines running, to buy one or five. Banners hung up and down the street in front of Macy’s proclaiming “New York & Co., Shopping Capital of the World!” To make that come true this season, I thought, would require a true miracle on 34th St.
An hour and a quarter after the bus left Newark we arrived at Grand Central Station. It was a beautiful evening, in the mid-70s with a few clouds. I clipped my bags together and wheeled downtown towards Union Square, a little over the 20 city blocks that made a mile in the City. I wheeled past the Sheraton Russell with its matched pair of stone Russell terriers out front, and got a glimpse of the Empire State Building up close, now after dusk lit up red, white, and blue.
New York lived on. Women still dressed smartly, some swapping pumps for tennis shoes just for the walk home from work. Drunken derelicts still talked to themselves, or to nobody. A look through the window of the Hotel Giraffe revealed a couple engaged in a long necking session. Men in white shirts and red ties still sat waiting in black cars. A thousand demonstrators, chanting and carrying signs proclaiming their disapproval of war, walked up Park Ave. “Break the cycle of violence,” one sign read. I wondered how many free shots its owner would give the terrorists. No, I thought, it was too late for New York to turn the other tower.
I got to the W and checked in with a nice clerk named Willy. I showed my Plutonium card and asked if we could possibly have a So Very Suite or a Way Suite or even a Toot Suite but it was not possible because the 90 Free Fridays in town. We had already been upgraded to a Spectacular room but he bumped us up one level to a Sommelier room. I went up and found an ordinary hotel room with a peek of a park view. Finally I could see the smoke, brightly illuminated by electric lights, from the still-smoldering disaster site.
Michael and RichG, New Yorkers, came over to have a drink with me while we waited for Hunnybear to arrive. We had a lovely waitress, Harmony, who took care of us in the signature W comfy lounge. The hotel restaurant at the W Union Square was Olive’s, part of the same chain as the one at Bellagio in Las Vegas. I found out you could order the yummy olive tapanade in the lounge while waiting for a table so you get double tapanade. I ordered a Manhattan in honor of New York City and Michael ordered a whisky sour in honor of he liked whisky sours. RichG had a couple doubles.
Hunnybear arrived, as did Michael’s beautiful girlfriend Claudia, and we put our name in for a table at Olive’s. I told Harmony if a bribe was necessary it was no problem but apparently it was not. We got a VIP booth in the back and ordered a nice bottle of Santa Barbara syrah. It was all good, although not up to the Vegas restaurant in any respect I thought. I had a decent paella and Hunnybear had some kind of red fish. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but Hunnybear and I split just one piece of banana chocolate cake.
There were a handful of firemen in the bar blowing off steam. I talked to one, John, who said frankly they all felt more comfortable when they were at the site instead of being forced to take days off. I told him I realized many people had probably been coming up to him but I just had to add my thanks. We embraced.
We went up to the room to surf the Internet a bit and saw the management of the three pyramid-topped buildings west of Union Square had attempted to illuminate them with red, white, and blue lights but they somehow came out mauve, taupe, and aubergine. We tried to hook up the high-speed Internet access and I was shocked to learn it had not yet been installed in this W. The WebTV ran at a turtle’s pace and the dialup line maxed out at 24k baud. It wasn’t what I expected from a brand-new hotel but frankly I had other things on my mind. We bid goodnight to Michael and Claudia and slept as best we could.
Lion pause:
Last time in New York, Hunnybear and I watched The Out-of-Towners. Compared with today’s issues, the crowds, storms, and muggings seem like the stuff of fairy tales. Kevin couldn’t come to New York this time because he and Lara were attending a wedding in Sequim, Wash. (pronounced “squim.”) I admonished them to be careful because there were indications Sequim could be the terrorists’ next target. The skyscraper was the symbol of the industrial age, so much so that Chrysler Motors built the world’s tallest one in the midst of a city less dependent on cars than any other in America. Will anyone want to work in such a high-profile building again?
------------------
I hope you enjoy my Lion Tales. For photos, past travelogues, subscriptions, and more, see www.liontales.com (http://www.liontales.com)
[This message has been edited by QuietLion (edited 09-22-2001).]