violist
May 30, 06, 10:06 am
UA 163 BOS LAX 0720 1021 752 3D
was 165 BOS LAX 0855 1156 752 3A
Got a note from the goalie, saying that he was going to try
to get a bump for LAX-LAS, and could I possibly sign him in
to the LAX club, so I said I'd try. Went to bed an hour
early the previous night and woke up 3 minutes before the
alarm ... got my butt to the airport and tried to get Mr.
Chicken to stand me by, but he refused. Scanned the counter
and saw one of my favorite agents, but the entire area
looked slammed (Saturday morning of a holiday weekend),
so decided not to bother him.
Security was jampacked; though there was a signed priority
line, this guy was letting everyone use it. I asked him, no
*G line today? and he shrugged and said no. I wondered what
he was there for. A lot of infrequent flyers on this day,
and the scene was of barely controlled chaos. The routine
took 40 minutes, 39 of it waiting in line.
My very favorite gate agent was working the club. Pleasure
and surprise on seeing her. She said that this was her new
job. Though I have been treated exceedingly well with few
exceptions at the BOS club (there's the guy with variable-
colored hair who can be difficult at times,but I haven't
seen him in a year or more), she's a welcome addition. Asked
her what the chances were for F on the previous flight: she
sort of chortled when she looked - 163 was wide open. It was
also scheduled at 10 min late, crew rest issues because the
night before's flight had been almost 2 hr late.
Owing to this discrepancy, a young fellow came up, concerned
about his very short connection. All of us chatted a bit:
consensus was that he should make it by the skin of his
teeth; but he got protected on a later flight anyhow. Turns
out this was FTer slimothy (I sort of recognized him from
who knows where before; we compared notes and still couldn't
figure out where we'd met).
There ended up 6 empties in F.
Good GAs at gate 15, including my second favorite agent, a
little short guy with notable eyebrows (don't know his name).
The flight was fine, except that the cockpit turned off Ch9
as we taxiied to the runway, and it stayed off. I asked the
FA to plead the case for Ch9. She came back with a refusal,
whereupon I asked for a double Courvoisier to amuse me (by
putting me to sleep). Functional Empower ports.
Breakfast choice was fruit plate or spinach frittata. The
frittata was exceedingly offputting - the texture of a
kitchen sponge and the taste of putrefaction. Luckily there
were large chunks of potato inside the frittata, these being
were the only edible parts. To give you an idea how dire
it was, the sides were home fries (UA home fries are horrid)
and zucchini (my least favorite vegetable besides the Bush
family), and I ate all of both of these. Oh, the sauce on
the frittata, which actually improved it, was a mixture of
acrid tomatoes and acrid basil with perhaps a touch of
battery acid mixed in. My seatmate had a bottle of garlic
Tabasco and tried drowning his breakfast in it, but he too
was defeated. A pork sausage link seemed to have been
boiled; half a slice of picnic roll was okay.
Fruit appetizer was ok grapes, ok orange segments, ok
cantaloupe, and rock-hard honeydew that managed to be
honey-sweet nonetheless.
Danish or croissant. The latter was gummy and was made
with margarine rather than butter. No jam offered.
A fair amount of turbulence; twice enough to trigger the
"flight attendants be seated" announcement and to wake me.
The third awakening owed itself to the fragrance of
chocolate chip cookies. These were mighty welcome although
tooth-achingly sweet.
Ten minutes before landing: "Flight attendants please be
seated for the remainder of the flight," and indeed it was
gallopping gertie on the way down. What the heck, they got
us landed on time, which must have been a relief to those
with tight connections. The crew held Y at bay until F
had deplaned, which seldom happens. I wandered around for
a while looking for goalie - no luck; then wandered off
toward the OAK gate to try to make the 10:50 and got there
just in time to hear "no standbys on this flight." No biggie
except that I find that my modem is on the fritz (actually,
the connector has been used often enough that the wires are
worn down to nubs), and I'm not sure I want to shell out
ten bucks for T-Mobile. My other friend Dave is shipping me
a PCMCIA modem; meanwhile, it's look for free wi-fi or
nothing. But at the moment the question was: go offsite to
a burger place; just outside security to Encounter; or stay
in the enclosure. I decided to hoof to Ruby's in T6 for a
burger, where surprisingly there was a line at 11:15, and
coupled with Budweiser for $6, I said no thanks and went to
the Redondo Beach Brewing Company, where you can get draft
beer and plasticized salads or else pick up a $6 sausage
sandwich next door at Jody Maroni's Sausage Kingdom.
Neither is, shall we say, spectacular. Jody's menu says
that the boudin is the spiciest thing of the six or so
offerings, so I ordered that. It's available with onions,
peppers, or onions and peppers, so I asked for double
onions, no peppers. The guy behind the counter said that
the onions and peppers were already mixed; I shrugged.
Report: the roll, a crusty one, was perhaps the best
part of the lot. The sausage did not comport with my
idea of boudin blanc; it was, instead, a regular pork
sausage, somewhat deficient in salt and with an overplus
of black pepper, slightly cured (red outside), with a
few bits of undercooked long-grain rice mixed in with
the too-lean sausage mixture. That was the worst of it.
The onion-pepper mix was nice fresh veggies, not too
greasy, slightly undercooked (it was early for lunch),
but very salty (making up in part for the lack of salt
in the sausage). Six bucks. Next door, the beers are 5.95
for a pint or 7.50 for 22 oz (a 10% discount). I went with
small ones, basking in the knowledge that I was getting
16 oz of (marginally) real beer for the price of a 12 oz
Bud at Ruby's.
Watching the comings and goings at the bar was interesting.
Some guy ordered perhaps the weirdest drink that I've ever
seen; I'd probably pass it up even on a dare. I forget what
he called it; sounded like sangrita, but probably not that.
The bartender informed another aghast patron that it was
sometimes called a "red beer" and actually tasted pretty
good, which neither the questioner nor I believed. Recipe:
take a quarter lime and squeeze it into a pint glass. Salt
liberally. Add about 10 oz of Budweiser and fill with Bloody
Mary mix. It looks like a "hemorrhaging brain" until
swizzled. I also noted that neither of the two people who
paid with $50 bills left a tip. And that the Century Cellars
Chardonnay is charged at $7.57 (appropriate number) a glass.
Talked to a kid of Kiwi extraction gone to visit his
parents in New Jersey (he's gone to NZ to work) - the usual
story, nothing good served by Quaintarse, long layover, so
parched. He's a Yankee fan. Surprising that the conversation
got beyond that.
Woodie Gold was a lightly hopped, cleanly made beverage
that tasted not unlike Coors Gold with half a shot of
vodka in it. Went nicely with the sausage sandwich but I
didn't want another (of either).
Stargazer IPA was heavily hopped and oddly bittersweet,
with a pronounced orange-zest nose that I couldn't take
much of. I think that the makers, whoever they might be,
are hedging their bets by making a well-hopped beer that
is nonetheless too sweet both in taste and aroma, so as
to displease both real beer drinkers and beer wusses alike.
I had high hopes for the Karl Strauss amber lager, but it
turned out to be the least pleasant of the three, tasting
like cheap brown beer with extra cream of wheat in it.
Nasty stuff. Were the lines infected? No idea, don't care.
Back to the RCC, one more tour around to check for yellow
tags, one last try to see if I could get the modem to work,
then off to the gate.
Question. Does anyone else besides me like the string-slushy
big band '40s jazz that is played at the club?
Left the club with just enough time only to find that all
the pedestrians trying to get into the main corridor were
stopped in a big old knot by a bunch of TSA. Someone asked
"may I ask why we can't go on?" to which the nearest guy
said, "sure." [Pause.] "Oh, you want an answer ." (Ah, so
everyone's a comedian.) After the obligatory chuckle he said
something vague about "some procedures" that they were
having to follow. The delay was just for a couple minutes.
UA6505 LAX OAK 1425 1538 CRJ 8D
They boarded this flight in one go - no zones, no premiers.
People were, however, slow to get off their duffs and into
line, so anyone who really wanted to claim overhead space
probably could. Flight was completely full.
The exit row, as far as I can tell, doesn't convey much of
an advantage. There may be an inch or two more legroom but
nothing can be done about the narrow seats; the lady next to
me spilled over a little, and she was not huge.
The FA was excessively chirpy. At one point she actually
started polishing the doors of the overhead bins. I was
not surprised to hear that it was a SLC-based crew. We
pushed back on time and landed on time.
was 165 BOS LAX 0855 1156 752 3A
Got a note from the goalie, saying that he was going to try
to get a bump for LAX-LAS, and could I possibly sign him in
to the LAX club, so I said I'd try. Went to bed an hour
early the previous night and woke up 3 minutes before the
alarm ... got my butt to the airport and tried to get Mr.
Chicken to stand me by, but he refused. Scanned the counter
and saw one of my favorite agents, but the entire area
looked slammed (Saturday morning of a holiday weekend),
so decided not to bother him.
Security was jampacked; though there was a signed priority
line, this guy was letting everyone use it. I asked him, no
*G line today? and he shrugged and said no. I wondered what
he was there for. A lot of infrequent flyers on this day,
and the scene was of barely controlled chaos. The routine
took 40 minutes, 39 of it waiting in line.
My very favorite gate agent was working the club. Pleasure
and surprise on seeing her. She said that this was her new
job. Though I have been treated exceedingly well with few
exceptions at the BOS club (there's the guy with variable-
colored hair who can be difficult at times,but I haven't
seen him in a year or more), she's a welcome addition. Asked
her what the chances were for F on the previous flight: she
sort of chortled when she looked - 163 was wide open. It was
also scheduled at 10 min late, crew rest issues because the
night before's flight had been almost 2 hr late.
Owing to this discrepancy, a young fellow came up, concerned
about his very short connection. All of us chatted a bit:
consensus was that he should make it by the skin of his
teeth; but he got protected on a later flight anyhow. Turns
out this was FTer slimothy (I sort of recognized him from
who knows where before; we compared notes and still couldn't
figure out where we'd met).
There ended up 6 empties in F.
Good GAs at gate 15, including my second favorite agent, a
little short guy with notable eyebrows (don't know his name).
The flight was fine, except that the cockpit turned off Ch9
as we taxiied to the runway, and it stayed off. I asked the
FA to plead the case for Ch9. She came back with a refusal,
whereupon I asked for a double Courvoisier to amuse me (by
putting me to sleep). Functional Empower ports.
Breakfast choice was fruit plate or spinach frittata. The
frittata was exceedingly offputting - the texture of a
kitchen sponge and the taste of putrefaction. Luckily there
were large chunks of potato inside the frittata, these being
were the only edible parts. To give you an idea how dire
it was, the sides were home fries (UA home fries are horrid)
and zucchini (my least favorite vegetable besides the Bush
family), and I ate all of both of these. Oh, the sauce on
the frittata, which actually improved it, was a mixture of
acrid tomatoes and acrid basil with perhaps a touch of
battery acid mixed in. My seatmate had a bottle of garlic
Tabasco and tried drowning his breakfast in it, but he too
was defeated. A pork sausage link seemed to have been
boiled; half a slice of picnic roll was okay.
Fruit appetizer was ok grapes, ok orange segments, ok
cantaloupe, and rock-hard honeydew that managed to be
honey-sweet nonetheless.
Danish or croissant. The latter was gummy and was made
with margarine rather than butter. No jam offered.
A fair amount of turbulence; twice enough to trigger the
"flight attendants be seated" announcement and to wake me.
The third awakening owed itself to the fragrance of
chocolate chip cookies. These were mighty welcome although
tooth-achingly sweet.
Ten minutes before landing: "Flight attendants please be
seated for the remainder of the flight," and indeed it was
gallopping gertie on the way down. What the heck, they got
us landed on time, which must have been a relief to those
with tight connections. The crew held Y at bay until F
had deplaned, which seldom happens. I wandered around for
a while looking for goalie - no luck; then wandered off
toward the OAK gate to try to make the 10:50 and got there
just in time to hear "no standbys on this flight." No biggie
except that I find that my modem is on the fritz (actually,
the connector has been used often enough that the wires are
worn down to nubs), and I'm not sure I want to shell out
ten bucks for T-Mobile. My other friend Dave is shipping me
a PCMCIA modem; meanwhile, it's look for free wi-fi or
nothing. But at the moment the question was: go offsite to
a burger place; just outside security to Encounter; or stay
in the enclosure. I decided to hoof to Ruby's in T6 for a
burger, where surprisingly there was a line at 11:15, and
coupled with Budweiser for $6, I said no thanks and went to
the Redondo Beach Brewing Company, where you can get draft
beer and plasticized salads or else pick up a $6 sausage
sandwich next door at Jody Maroni's Sausage Kingdom.
Neither is, shall we say, spectacular. Jody's menu says
that the boudin is the spiciest thing of the six or so
offerings, so I ordered that. It's available with onions,
peppers, or onions and peppers, so I asked for double
onions, no peppers. The guy behind the counter said that
the onions and peppers were already mixed; I shrugged.
Report: the roll, a crusty one, was perhaps the best
part of the lot. The sausage did not comport with my
idea of boudin blanc; it was, instead, a regular pork
sausage, somewhat deficient in salt and with an overplus
of black pepper, slightly cured (red outside), with a
few bits of undercooked long-grain rice mixed in with
the too-lean sausage mixture. That was the worst of it.
The onion-pepper mix was nice fresh veggies, not too
greasy, slightly undercooked (it was early for lunch),
but very salty (making up in part for the lack of salt
in the sausage). Six bucks. Next door, the beers are 5.95
for a pint or 7.50 for 22 oz (a 10% discount). I went with
small ones, basking in the knowledge that I was getting
16 oz of (marginally) real beer for the price of a 12 oz
Bud at Ruby's.
Watching the comings and goings at the bar was interesting.
Some guy ordered perhaps the weirdest drink that I've ever
seen; I'd probably pass it up even on a dare. I forget what
he called it; sounded like sangrita, but probably not that.
The bartender informed another aghast patron that it was
sometimes called a "red beer" and actually tasted pretty
good, which neither the questioner nor I believed. Recipe:
take a quarter lime and squeeze it into a pint glass. Salt
liberally. Add about 10 oz of Budweiser and fill with Bloody
Mary mix. It looks like a "hemorrhaging brain" until
swizzled. I also noted that neither of the two people who
paid with $50 bills left a tip. And that the Century Cellars
Chardonnay is charged at $7.57 (appropriate number) a glass.
Talked to a kid of Kiwi extraction gone to visit his
parents in New Jersey (he's gone to NZ to work) - the usual
story, nothing good served by Quaintarse, long layover, so
parched. He's a Yankee fan. Surprising that the conversation
got beyond that.
Woodie Gold was a lightly hopped, cleanly made beverage
that tasted not unlike Coors Gold with half a shot of
vodka in it. Went nicely with the sausage sandwich but I
didn't want another (of either).
Stargazer IPA was heavily hopped and oddly bittersweet,
with a pronounced orange-zest nose that I couldn't take
much of. I think that the makers, whoever they might be,
are hedging their bets by making a well-hopped beer that
is nonetheless too sweet both in taste and aroma, so as
to displease both real beer drinkers and beer wusses alike.
I had high hopes for the Karl Strauss amber lager, but it
turned out to be the least pleasant of the three, tasting
like cheap brown beer with extra cream of wheat in it.
Nasty stuff. Were the lines infected? No idea, don't care.
Back to the RCC, one more tour around to check for yellow
tags, one last try to see if I could get the modem to work,
then off to the gate.
Question. Does anyone else besides me like the string-slushy
big band '40s jazz that is played at the club?
Left the club with just enough time only to find that all
the pedestrians trying to get into the main corridor were
stopped in a big old knot by a bunch of TSA. Someone asked
"may I ask why we can't go on?" to which the nearest guy
said, "sure." [Pause.] "Oh, you want an answer ." (Ah, so
everyone's a comedian.) After the obligatory chuckle he said
something vague about "some procedures" that they were
having to follow. The delay was just for a couple minutes.
UA6505 LAX OAK 1425 1538 CRJ 8D
They boarded this flight in one go - no zones, no premiers.
People were, however, slow to get off their duffs and into
line, so anyone who really wanted to claim overhead space
probably could. Flight was completely full.
The exit row, as far as I can tell, doesn't convey much of
an advantage. There may be an inch or two more legroom but
nothing can be done about the narrow seats; the lady next to
me spilled over a little, and she was not huge.
The FA was excessively chirpy. At one point she actually
started polishing the doors of the overhead bins. I was
not surprised to hear that it was a SLC-based crew. We
pushed back on time and landed on time.