A Quick Trip to BUR...AA FC and a Few Adventures Along the Way
Jul 3, 2004, 8:18 am
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: Currently a man without a country; American Airlines-3MM, Executive Platinum; US Airways-Doesn't Matter AAnymore; Hilton-Diamond; Starwood-Platinum; Hyatt-Diamond
Posts: 702
A Quick Trip to BUR...AA FC and a Few Adventures Along the Way
June 23, AA MCI-DFW-BUR...Also Lunch with Mrs. Paris and Fun Times with a Broken FC LAV!
It was another one of those perfect days when it is hard to think about leaving. The weather in Kansas City is warm with low humidity and the sky is an amazing azure blue.
I had arrived the night before on AA from DCA by way of ORD. Of course, the ORD-MCI flight that was to arrive at 10:25 p.m. was delayed an hour for some undescribed reason, so Mrs. Paris, who had come out to MCI to fetch me, and I finally pulled into the Chez-Paris driveway at just after midnight, Wednesday morning. We talked and noshed a bit on Tuscan sausage, cheese, and some left-over white wine, chided the oldest Paris offspring for being 10 minutes late for her 1:30 a.m. curfew (like she could give a care...18 year olds…!?!), then it was lights out.
Wednesday morning I awoke after a very busy night dreaming, laid in bed for a few minutes, then arose, dressed, and walked about my property surveying the progress of my new shade garden, reprimanding my mint for infringing on the lovely Provencial Lavender which is in glorious bloom and fragrance, then went in to roust Mrs. Paris so we could go have coffee at Aixois, our wonderful neighborhood French café run by a gentleman from…bet you can’t guess…Aix-en-Provence.
We walked the shops of Crestwood (a lovely, Euro-feeling strip of tre’ chic shops in KC), then sauntered through the Kaufmann Memorial Gardens, then went home so I could do a little laundry and pack for this trip to the Left Coast.
We lunched on the patio of my favorite KC restaurant, Grand Street Café, then, though it was early for my 4:13 departure, decided to drive on to the airport so Mrs. Paris could make it back home before rush hour. The 2 younger Paris offspring are away at various camps and conferences, the older Paris offspring was off to spend the night at some friend’s house, so Mrs. Paris was alone for the evening. She had a “girl’s night out” date with several work friends and wanted to get in a disco nap prior to that event. You go girl.
I arrived at an AA kiosk in Terminal C, attempted to secure my boarding passes, but the machine decided to go off line just as it began to print by boarding passes, so I leaped like a gazelle into the FC line and not only got my boarding passes, but managed to get on an earlier flight to DFW with FC seat secured. A few extra minutes in the DFW C Terminal AC ain’t a bad deal!
Pranced through MCI scrutiny where they advise me to take off my Teva sandals (THEM: “Sir, we advise you take off your shoes.” ME: “They aren’t even shoes” as I flung them onto the x-ray conveyor belt…foot fetish is alive and well at MCI and this past Sunday they were asking EVERYONE if they had a camcorder…must be the new fetish.) then headed into the MCI AC.
Yippee!!!…2 of my favorite AAngels are working so we gab and laugh for about 30 minutes then I head out to board the MD-80 to DFW taking seat 5E.
The FC FA looks familiar (was she on my flight last night/this morning…I don’t really remember given a certain gin haze I was experiencing at the time) and attempts to run pre-departure drinks but before she can even finish taking the orders of 3EF, the door is slammed by the GA and we are on our way.
Well, the flight was uneventful…2 rum and diet cokes, typed out some expense reports, had a quick nap and we are landing to the north at DFW on the wrong side of the terminal. So we taxi and taxi around to the AA C Concourse and I deplane and head to the AC where I purchase a daypass to T-Mobile and surf the web for 90 minutes then head down to C-12 for the DFW-BUR flight.
Problems begin almost immediately upon my arrival at the gate. Inbound is late, may have maintenance issues once it does arrive, they are looking for another aircraft, they find another aircraft, it is being brought over from the hanger and will be parked at gate C-19. I go back down to the Admiral’s Club and surf the web for a few more minutes then head back down to the gate just across from the AC entrance.
We board slightly later than our delayed departure time, and then, suddenly, maintenance is swarming the front of this plane like bees on pollen and the GA keeps popping her head in making furtive looks at everyone. Seems the FC lav is not working and, according to the pilot, “making you fly nearly 3 hours without a lav working is just not good business” or something to that effect.
He assures us it will only be 30 minutes but then, of course, they decide they have to take the entire toilet apart. They carry out huge chunks of the thing, bring back huge chunks of the thing, all accompanied by lots of head scratching and toolbelt shifting.
I loved this part of the worker jabber…
Maintenance worker #1: Do I loosen this?
Maintenance worker #2: Yes, but not too much.
#1: Is that too much?
#2: You’ll know if it is too much. It will start spraying stuff you don’t want to be wearing.
Oh My God, please, I don’t want to be drenched in projectile sh*t. I’ve got my newest Tommy Bahama silk on. Why did I let them put me in 3E?
During all this, the FC FA, who could barely tear herself away from her magazine to greet us upon boarding, decides she will condescend to us and serve a round of drinks, yippee, there is nothing like a gin and soda served with a side of grudge. She has to step over the worker boys who, at this point, are on their hands and knees with their as@es sticking out of the lav. Every time she passes, she looks at them, looks in the lav, curls her nose and rolls her eyes. You just can’t make this stuff up.
Well, an hour passes and they finally give the thing one more test flush, there are no projectile blue fluids, so we are ready to head out of DFW.
We taxi and takeoff and the FC FA keeps running up and down the aisle spraying deodorizer on the carpet then finally remembers to serve us our drinks and warm nuts and hot towels.
Dinner in FC this evening is chicken casserole, pasta with mushrooms, or salmon. I chose the salmon and it is dry and served with that weird butter/caper zingy sauce AA catering loves. For dessert she offers a scoop of vanilla ice cream or fruit and cheese. Did they forget to cater the sundae toppings or was she just too d*mn lazy to spoon out some fudge and Cool Whip? I m guessing the former but it was probably the latter. Anyway, I had the cheese and fruit and only ate the cheese because I’m still trying to fool myself that I’m on the Atkins.
Well, I settle in, fire up the pathetic Dell, and watch Kenneth Branaugh’s “Much Ado About Nothing” which I just love, mostly because of the Tuscan villa where it was filmed and then we are finally making a long, deliberate descent into Burbank. We hit the runway with a bang and the pilot slams the brakes and we all go flying forward, testing the integrity of our seatbelts. Ex-fighter jock, no doubt.
We are over an hour and 15 minutes late but he taxis the ten yards from the runway to the gate like he can still make up time.
The ex-fighter jock welcomes us to “that aircraft carrier, the Burbank Airport,” and then we deplane down the jetstairs and I feel very 1950s Hollywood and, wishing I had dressed a little snazzier, give a little wave but alas, there are no snapping paparazzi so I just whip it over to the National Car Emerald Isle kiosk and help myself to an Impala and head out to the Sheraton Four Points, Monrovia/Arcadia.
The Sheraton 3 ½ Points, Monrovia/Arcadia and Their Special SPG Platinum Treatment
Oh my. Well, my meeting the next day was at the Embassy Suites/Arcadia. The Embassy Suites/Arcadia is a delightful hotel and I enjoy the free booze at the Manager’s reception each night and the sweet little bartender who, when I asked her to put a splash of dry vermouth into my gin and soda, reached around and grabbed a jug of bleach. After much head nodding and pointing we finally arrived at the right bottle together and I enjoyed my drink and avoided caustic chemical burns to my digestive system.
Knowing I was getting in late and would miss the Manager’s reception, and also knowing that I could stay at the Four Points for $100.00 cheaper thus putting $50.00 in my pocket thanks to my company’s 50/50 hotel savings plan, I booked a room at the, as I shall hence refer to it as, the Sheraton Three and a Half Points, Monrovia/Arcadia.
My King I had reserved is no longer available so I'm stuck in a 2 double-bedded cell on the second floor just shy of the eastbound lanes of the 210…the bathroom is actually on the shoulder of the freeway.
When I politely point out that this is no way to treat an SPG Platinum, I’m interrogated with questions along the lines of “when did you make your reservation?,” “how did you make your reservation?,” and “we’ve been sold out for days on Kings, who told you YOU could have a King?” Someone is one step past cranky and it isn’t me.
I like Kings and I chose a King right off the rates available menu selection at SPG.com, thank you very much under-trained biddy service lady.
I remind the under-trained biddy service lady about my Platinum amenity and choose the points then whip it up to the 2nd floor, find my very stale smelling cell, toss my stuff down and head immediately to the bar where a very friendly bartender is happy to see me and falls all over himself fetching me a gin and soda with lime.
I sit and visit with him for a while and comment that, despite the front desk person stating the hotel was sold out, the bar is amazingly quiet, it’s just little ol’ me! He states they are nearly full but it is all kids ordering pizza and sneaking pay-per-view porn.
Well, I stay until about 11:00 p.m. then head up, iron a shirt, and set the trusty Sprint PCS to wake me to the sounds of the “Stars and Stripes Forever” at 7:15 the next morning.
It was another one of those perfect days when it is hard to think about leaving. The weather in Kansas City is warm with low humidity and the sky is an amazing azure blue.
I had arrived the night before on AA from DCA by way of ORD. Of course, the ORD-MCI flight that was to arrive at 10:25 p.m. was delayed an hour for some undescribed reason, so Mrs. Paris, who had come out to MCI to fetch me, and I finally pulled into the Chez-Paris driveway at just after midnight, Wednesday morning. We talked and noshed a bit on Tuscan sausage, cheese, and some left-over white wine, chided the oldest Paris offspring for being 10 minutes late for her 1:30 a.m. curfew (like she could give a care...18 year olds…!?!), then it was lights out.
Wednesday morning I awoke after a very busy night dreaming, laid in bed for a few minutes, then arose, dressed, and walked about my property surveying the progress of my new shade garden, reprimanding my mint for infringing on the lovely Provencial Lavender which is in glorious bloom and fragrance, then went in to roust Mrs. Paris so we could go have coffee at Aixois, our wonderful neighborhood French café run by a gentleman from…bet you can’t guess…Aix-en-Provence.
We walked the shops of Crestwood (a lovely, Euro-feeling strip of tre’ chic shops in KC), then sauntered through the Kaufmann Memorial Gardens, then went home so I could do a little laundry and pack for this trip to the Left Coast.
We lunched on the patio of my favorite KC restaurant, Grand Street Café, then, though it was early for my 4:13 departure, decided to drive on to the airport so Mrs. Paris could make it back home before rush hour. The 2 younger Paris offspring are away at various camps and conferences, the older Paris offspring was off to spend the night at some friend’s house, so Mrs. Paris was alone for the evening. She had a “girl’s night out” date with several work friends and wanted to get in a disco nap prior to that event. You go girl.
I arrived at an AA kiosk in Terminal C, attempted to secure my boarding passes, but the machine decided to go off line just as it began to print by boarding passes, so I leaped like a gazelle into the FC line and not only got my boarding passes, but managed to get on an earlier flight to DFW with FC seat secured. A few extra minutes in the DFW C Terminal AC ain’t a bad deal!
Pranced through MCI scrutiny where they advise me to take off my Teva sandals (THEM: “Sir, we advise you take off your shoes.” ME: “They aren’t even shoes” as I flung them onto the x-ray conveyor belt…foot fetish is alive and well at MCI and this past Sunday they were asking EVERYONE if they had a camcorder…must be the new fetish.) then headed into the MCI AC.
Yippee!!!…2 of my favorite AAngels are working so we gab and laugh for about 30 minutes then I head out to board the MD-80 to DFW taking seat 5E.
The FC FA looks familiar (was she on my flight last night/this morning…I don’t really remember given a certain gin haze I was experiencing at the time) and attempts to run pre-departure drinks but before she can even finish taking the orders of 3EF, the door is slammed by the GA and we are on our way.
Well, the flight was uneventful…2 rum and diet cokes, typed out some expense reports, had a quick nap and we are landing to the north at DFW on the wrong side of the terminal. So we taxi and taxi around to the AA C Concourse and I deplane and head to the AC where I purchase a daypass to T-Mobile and surf the web for 90 minutes then head down to C-12 for the DFW-BUR flight.
Problems begin almost immediately upon my arrival at the gate. Inbound is late, may have maintenance issues once it does arrive, they are looking for another aircraft, they find another aircraft, it is being brought over from the hanger and will be parked at gate C-19. I go back down to the Admiral’s Club and surf the web for a few more minutes then head back down to the gate just across from the AC entrance.
We board slightly later than our delayed departure time, and then, suddenly, maintenance is swarming the front of this plane like bees on pollen and the GA keeps popping her head in making furtive looks at everyone. Seems the FC lav is not working and, according to the pilot, “making you fly nearly 3 hours without a lav working is just not good business” or something to that effect.
He assures us it will only be 30 minutes but then, of course, they decide they have to take the entire toilet apart. They carry out huge chunks of the thing, bring back huge chunks of the thing, all accompanied by lots of head scratching and toolbelt shifting.
I loved this part of the worker jabber…
Maintenance worker #1: Do I loosen this?
Maintenance worker #2: Yes, but not too much.
#1: Is that too much?
#2: You’ll know if it is too much. It will start spraying stuff you don’t want to be wearing.
Oh My God, please, I don’t want to be drenched in projectile sh*t. I’ve got my newest Tommy Bahama silk on. Why did I let them put me in 3E?
During all this, the FC FA, who could barely tear herself away from her magazine to greet us upon boarding, decides she will condescend to us and serve a round of drinks, yippee, there is nothing like a gin and soda served with a side of grudge. She has to step over the worker boys who, at this point, are on their hands and knees with their as@es sticking out of the lav. Every time she passes, she looks at them, looks in the lav, curls her nose and rolls her eyes. You just can’t make this stuff up.
Well, an hour passes and they finally give the thing one more test flush, there are no projectile blue fluids, so we are ready to head out of DFW.
We taxi and takeoff and the FC FA keeps running up and down the aisle spraying deodorizer on the carpet then finally remembers to serve us our drinks and warm nuts and hot towels.
Dinner in FC this evening is chicken casserole, pasta with mushrooms, or salmon. I chose the salmon and it is dry and served with that weird butter/caper zingy sauce AA catering loves. For dessert she offers a scoop of vanilla ice cream or fruit and cheese. Did they forget to cater the sundae toppings or was she just too d*mn lazy to spoon out some fudge and Cool Whip? I m guessing the former but it was probably the latter. Anyway, I had the cheese and fruit and only ate the cheese because I’m still trying to fool myself that I’m on the Atkins.
Well, I settle in, fire up the pathetic Dell, and watch Kenneth Branaugh’s “Much Ado About Nothing” which I just love, mostly because of the Tuscan villa where it was filmed and then we are finally making a long, deliberate descent into Burbank. We hit the runway with a bang and the pilot slams the brakes and we all go flying forward, testing the integrity of our seatbelts. Ex-fighter jock, no doubt.
We are over an hour and 15 minutes late but he taxis the ten yards from the runway to the gate like he can still make up time.
The ex-fighter jock welcomes us to “that aircraft carrier, the Burbank Airport,” and then we deplane down the jetstairs and I feel very 1950s Hollywood and, wishing I had dressed a little snazzier, give a little wave but alas, there are no snapping paparazzi so I just whip it over to the National Car Emerald Isle kiosk and help myself to an Impala and head out to the Sheraton Four Points, Monrovia/Arcadia.
The Sheraton 3 ½ Points, Monrovia/Arcadia and Their Special SPG Platinum Treatment
Oh my. Well, my meeting the next day was at the Embassy Suites/Arcadia. The Embassy Suites/Arcadia is a delightful hotel and I enjoy the free booze at the Manager’s reception each night and the sweet little bartender who, when I asked her to put a splash of dry vermouth into my gin and soda, reached around and grabbed a jug of bleach. After much head nodding and pointing we finally arrived at the right bottle together and I enjoyed my drink and avoided caustic chemical burns to my digestive system.
Knowing I was getting in late and would miss the Manager’s reception, and also knowing that I could stay at the Four Points for $100.00 cheaper thus putting $50.00 in my pocket thanks to my company’s 50/50 hotel savings plan, I booked a room at the, as I shall hence refer to it as, the Sheraton Three and a Half Points, Monrovia/Arcadia.
My King I had reserved is no longer available so I'm stuck in a 2 double-bedded cell on the second floor just shy of the eastbound lanes of the 210…the bathroom is actually on the shoulder of the freeway.
When I politely point out that this is no way to treat an SPG Platinum, I’m interrogated with questions along the lines of “when did you make your reservation?,” “how did you make your reservation?,” and “we’ve been sold out for days on Kings, who told you YOU could have a King?” Someone is one step past cranky and it isn’t me.
I like Kings and I chose a King right off the rates available menu selection at SPG.com, thank you very much under-trained biddy service lady.
I remind the under-trained biddy service lady about my Platinum amenity and choose the points then whip it up to the 2nd floor, find my very stale smelling cell, toss my stuff down and head immediately to the bar where a very friendly bartender is happy to see me and falls all over himself fetching me a gin and soda with lime.
I sit and visit with him for a while and comment that, despite the front desk person stating the hotel was sold out, the bar is amazingly quiet, it’s just little ol’ me! He states they are nearly full but it is all kids ordering pizza and sneaking pay-per-view porn.
Well, I stay until about 11:00 p.m. then head up, iron a shirt, and set the trusty Sprint PCS to wake me to the sounds of the “Stars and Stripes Forever” at 7:15 the next morning.
Last edited by mwp2paris; Jul 3, 2004 at 8:22 am
Jul 3, 2004, 8:20 am
#2
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: Currently a man without a country; American Airlines-3MM, Executive Platinum; US Airways-Doesn't Matter AAnymore; Hilton-Diamond; Starwood-Platinum; Hyatt-Diamond
Posts: 702
Thursday, June 24…Fun Times With a Client and Westin Pasadena Experiences
I awake at 6:30 as a semi-trailer squeals through my room and then shower and shave and do what I can do with what I’ve got to prepare for a day of training with my client.
I whip it over to the Embassy Suites Arcadia where my meeting is and the day passes rather quickly then I change into my comfy shorts, shirt, and Tevas and hop back into the Impala and am on the 210 whipping it over to the Westin Pasadena where I’ve booked a room on SPG.com for $10.00 less than the Embassy Suites so I’m making $5.00 tonight thanks to my company’s 50/50 hotel savings plan.
I finally find the Westin and it is lovely and I find the entrance to self-parking then manage to drag myself up to the lobby which is lovely and coolly saunter up to the Front Desk where I innocently become a participant in this conversation:
Me: Good afternoon, it’s me, Mr. Paris. I m checking in.
Her: Welcome to the Westin Pasadena, Mr. Paris. I see you’ve reserved a room with 2 double beds.
Me: No, that would be a room with a King bed and I’m Platinum as you’ve probably noticed so do you have any upgrades available?
Her: Why no, we have no upgrades available but with your Platinum status, you have a very nice room on the 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Me: You have nothing available on your Club Floor?
Her: No, we are completely sold out. But we do have you in a very nice room on the 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Me: Is that a King room?
Her: Yes, it is a very nice King room on our 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Me: And you have no Club Floor rooms available?
Her: (After much clicking and staring) No, we have you in a very nice King room on the 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Stepfordish service is spooky.
I ascend to the 11th floor and find my room which in no way appears to be a very nice room…it appears to be a standard issue room with a complementary bottle of water overlooking the driveway of the hotel.
I decide to check out the spa and spend 2 hours in the confines of a very nice sauna and steam room then whip it into the bar and enjoy a Cobb salad and a few drinks then head upstairs and plunge into my Westin wonderbed or whatever they are calling it.
Friday, June 26, A Client, The Getty, and a Redeye…The Fun Never Stops
The next day, my meeting isn’t until 1:00, so I have all morning to lounge around. I rarely sleep in but I do enjoy the notion that I could if I wanted to. I don’t set either the alarm clock or the trusty Sprint PCS but still awake at the first signs of light in my room. I switch the TV from some infomercial to NBC so it will be ready when Katie and Matt sign on for the Today Show then roll back over and try to grab a few more blissful minutes of shuteye. I finally realized that was a losing battle so I lounged about in Kingly repose for a while catching up on the news then hoisted myself out of bed.
I decided to get in more spa time so headed back down and read that rag the USA Today whilst sweating out the toxins from the previous night then whipped it back up stairs to do what I could do with what I have to get ready for 3 hours with my client who happened to be same one from yesterday but today we are meeting at their site.
Three hours flew by and before I knew it my day was over and I had plenty of time to kill before my 12:30 a.m. redeye out of LAX to DFW. This meant one and only one thing…an evening at the Getty.
I hightailed it down the 210 to the 134 to the 405 and traffic cooperated so it wasn’t long and I was exiting onto Getty Center Drive and paid my $5.00 to park then hopped on one of their cool little funiculars and headed up to enjoy a beautiful Southern California evening.
I love Friday evenings at the Getty. There is usually something going on although tonight the only real event was some film on architectural photography which I am sure was absolutely riveting. I decided to just meander around the lovely grounds, hit a few of the galleries, then enjoy the amazing garden. There are a few dream jobs in this world and I think one of them must be horticulturist at the Getty.
One Friday when I was headed out of LAX on the redeye, I stopped by the Getty and they were doing a performance art piece which involved some very serious looking actor types dressed in faux-Greek god/Ninja warrior garb and black and white face paint doing a VERY slow and stylized saunter around the outside of the galleries. This involved walking into and through the various fountains scattered around the gallery courtyards and occasionally stopping and just looking off into space for long periods of time all to the accompaniment of drums. One actor was actually required to slither on his belly while another unrolled parchment paper in front of this little band of merrymakers. When it was finally over, which you only figured out after they stopped looking into space one last time and just walked away, the large crowd applauded like we knew what the hell we had just watched.
I had to have 2 G&Ts after that and ponder the existential nature of the universe.
This evening, though I just relaxed and enjoyed myself then, after watching the sun sink below the smog line, I whipped it back down the hill, fetched the Impala from the parking garage, and headed on down the 405 to LAX where I discovered that National Car Rental has decided that their previous location was much too convenient and easy to find so have moved to property that requires blind faith and undying perseverance to find. Before I can even get out of the car an attendant is there with my receipt and I hop the bus for the long journey over to LAX. Before we even leave the parking lot, someone is radioing the bus to announce that one of the passengers may have a set of keys and could everyone check.
Well, we all look at each other, pat our pockets, and mumble we don’t have them. The driver radios back that no one on board has keys. The invisible voice radios back that indeed, someone has to have them…someone who just returned an Impala has to have the keys on this bus!
Oh dear. Well, I pat a little lower and indeed, mea culpa, I am the guilty party. I was so shocked about my receipt being ready before I could even turn off the darn engine that I just hopped out and stuck the keys in my pocket. Not wanting to appear like the village idiot in front of my fellow passengers, I discretely place the keys into the bus driver’s hand as I prance off the bus at the first stop.
An Evening at LAX Followed by the Trip Home
LAX Terminal 1 is hopping as usual and I decide to treat myself to dinner at Encounter, the Disney-designed restaurant atop the Theme Tower in the middle of LAX. As I sprint across the traffic, I have a slight feeling of déjà vu. My first trip through LAX was in the early 1970s, before all the parking garages and doubledecked access roads. My parents and I flew on TWA nonstop MCI-LAX then connected onto AA for the short hop down to SAN aboard one of AA’s fine DC10s. There were only about 6 souls aboard that flight and, so they wouldn’t have to hike all the way to the back to fling beverages at us, the FAs moved everyone up to FC. I was a kid in a candy store for that 29 minute flight or what ever it was. On the return to LAX from SAN, we were on a Delta L1011 and during our time in LAX waiting for our TWA flight home, not only did we see Don Knotts drunk and heading from the VIP lounge to his Honolulu flight, we walked over to the Theme Tower and watched planes land from the outside observation deck which I doubt is even open anymore what with all the super silly security measures being forced down our throats.
A year or so later, I traveled to see my grandmother and aunt and uncle in SAN by myself and on my return, built enough time into my connection in LAX to enjoy lunch in the old restaurant that used to be in the Theme Tower. I had a window seat and ordered a sandwich with sliced tongue and fontina cheese which I had never had before and didn’t even know if I liked but it just sounded so cosmopolitan. Here I was, a dumb, semi-nerdy high school kid from the sticks of Missouri, having lunch in a fancy airport restaurant by myself with a waitress who just fawned over me. I never felt cooler. So this is the jetset life!
Years later in 1997, as an adult, I was leading a meeting at the LAX Sheraton and came down to the Theme Tower to check out the newly opened and much talked about restaurant Encounter that had taken up residency in the Theme Tower. I thought the space-age theme complete with lava lamps at the bar was cute and the food was good.
Well, I was happy to discover that not much has changed at Encounter other than the prices...up, up and away but I guess that is in keeping with the theme.
I found a trendy looking but rather uncomfortable stool at the bar where I enjoyed an expensive thimble-sized cosmopolitan, a tender marinated and grilled flank steak accompanied by a warm fingerling potato and artichoke heart salad, and a descent glass of Chilean red. I settled the check to the Visa and decided since it was now about 10:00 p.m., I would whip it over to the AA Terminal and spend the rest of my time in the lovely Admiral’s Club aka Qantas Club, LAX.
The AA Terminal was hopping tonight what with all the Qantas and domestic redeyes so I make good use of the AirPass and Executive Platinum line to secure my boarding passes then attempt to prance through scrutiny only to discover that the line is so long that they are holding people at the bottom of the escalator. I am kept in the corral there for a while, but then am finally granted permission to ascend up to scrutiny central where it is a madhouse and humans employed by some bizarre agency insist on screaming incomprehensible orders at their fellow humans. I make it through with my wits and dignity intact and head immediately to the Admiral’s Club.
As I walk down the concourse past the gate from which the first of the two SYD-bound Qantas flights departs, I can’t help noticing about 50 pre-teens all dressed alike in blazing red T-shirts waiting to board. Their chaperones already look exhausted just from keeping this clan from sneaking off to smoke and make out…I can’t imagine what they will look like after 16 hours in the air with this group. I send them a mental blessing and continue my waltz down the concourse.
Well, I ascend up to where they check your credentials (is there any club anywhere that is more unfriendly than the LAX AC when welcoming their guests?), present my papers, and am granted access to the Qantas Club masquerading as an Admiral’s Club.
I am relieved to see the same bartender on duty who is usually there. He is great. Watching him work the bar when it is packed with Qantas flyers and all their free drink coupons is like a night at the ballet. Usually, I have to beat my way with a stick up to the bar just to get a seat for his performance but tonight it is just me, one other guest seated at the other end, a slow but steady walk-up business, the bartender, and an assistant.
I inquire where everyone is and find out that the Qantas JFK-LAX-SYD flight is running very late and isn’t scheduled to land until sometime after 1:30 a.m. The staff is not happy because they are contractually obligated to stay open until that flight boards for its leg to SYD so they will be here until nearly 3:00 a.m. or so.
I offer my apologies. In reality, I’m a bit glad to hear that the Qantas Club will be open longer than usual tonight because that means us AA domestic grunts on redeyes won’t be kicked out on our ears at 11:30 p.m. when the Club normally closes leaving us to spend the reminder of our time with the huddled masses by our gates. There truly is a silver lining in nearly every cloud.
I order a vodka/soda with a splash of cranberry and Rose’s lime juice and before I can pay, a Qantas flyer appears, throws down his free drink coupon and orders a Diet Coke. The Diet Coke is delivered and the patron walks away. The bartender looks at me, looks at the coupon and knowing the international sign for “I can’t give it to you but you can grab it because there is no charge for Diet Coke so that coupon is going to waste unless you use it,” I snatch the coupon and present it as payment for my beverage of an alcoholic nature. This of course, continues through the rest of the evening.
The LAX Qantas Club does have a Flagship Lounge to which I have never been granted access but I hear it has a descent selection of nibbles to accompany all the free booze you can suck down. On the regular side where I am, there is always a large tray of plastic wrapped cheeses (white and yellow) and a lovely basket of crisps. Tonight, that selection has been enhanced with tea sandwiches, veggies and dip, and a large selection of cookies. I would love to see the bill being submitted to Qantas for this upscaling of service.
No wonder the rest of the Admiral’s Clubs are pissed. They get no subsidy from Qantas but I bet they get an earful from unknowing customers who expect a consistent level of service in all the Clubs. DCA took their cheese away over a year ago; my beloved MCI club never had cheese although has started putting out a better snack mix and veggies and dip; ORD no longer has pepper-jack cheese in its inventory, just yellow or white cubes which disappear at 6:00 p.m. but the bartender will usually fetch you some if you ask nicely; and at DFW, the cheese and crackers appear randomly for only 3 minutes and 12 seconds somewhere between 4:00 and 6:00 and if it is time to put it away, they will actually snatch the tray out from in front of you and grab any cubes you might have in your hands away from you…NO CHEESE FOR YOU!
I awake at 6:30 as a semi-trailer squeals through my room and then shower and shave and do what I can do with what I’ve got to prepare for a day of training with my client.
I whip it over to the Embassy Suites Arcadia where my meeting is and the day passes rather quickly then I change into my comfy shorts, shirt, and Tevas and hop back into the Impala and am on the 210 whipping it over to the Westin Pasadena where I’ve booked a room on SPG.com for $10.00 less than the Embassy Suites so I’m making $5.00 tonight thanks to my company’s 50/50 hotel savings plan.
I finally find the Westin and it is lovely and I find the entrance to self-parking then manage to drag myself up to the lobby which is lovely and coolly saunter up to the Front Desk where I innocently become a participant in this conversation:
Me: Good afternoon, it’s me, Mr. Paris. I m checking in.
Her: Welcome to the Westin Pasadena, Mr. Paris. I see you’ve reserved a room with 2 double beds.
Me: No, that would be a room with a King bed and I’m Platinum as you’ve probably noticed so do you have any upgrades available?
Her: Why no, we have no upgrades available but with your Platinum status, you have a very nice room on the 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Me: You have nothing available on your Club Floor?
Her: No, we are completely sold out. But we do have you in a very nice room on the 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Me: Is that a King room?
Her: Yes, it is a very nice King room on our 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Me: And you have no Club Floor rooms available?
Her: (After much clicking and staring) No, we have you in a very nice King room on the 11th floor with access to our Club Lounge.
Stepfordish service is spooky.
I ascend to the 11th floor and find my room which in no way appears to be a very nice room…it appears to be a standard issue room with a complementary bottle of water overlooking the driveway of the hotel.
I decide to check out the spa and spend 2 hours in the confines of a very nice sauna and steam room then whip it into the bar and enjoy a Cobb salad and a few drinks then head upstairs and plunge into my Westin wonderbed or whatever they are calling it.
Friday, June 26, A Client, The Getty, and a Redeye…The Fun Never Stops
The next day, my meeting isn’t until 1:00, so I have all morning to lounge around. I rarely sleep in but I do enjoy the notion that I could if I wanted to. I don’t set either the alarm clock or the trusty Sprint PCS but still awake at the first signs of light in my room. I switch the TV from some infomercial to NBC so it will be ready when Katie and Matt sign on for the Today Show then roll back over and try to grab a few more blissful minutes of shuteye. I finally realized that was a losing battle so I lounged about in Kingly repose for a while catching up on the news then hoisted myself out of bed.
I decided to get in more spa time so headed back down and read that rag the USA Today whilst sweating out the toxins from the previous night then whipped it back up stairs to do what I could do with what I have to get ready for 3 hours with my client who happened to be same one from yesterday but today we are meeting at their site.
Three hours flew by and before I knew it my day was over and I had plenty of time to kill before my 12:30 a.m. redeye out of LAX to DFW. This meant one and only one thing…an evening at the Getty.
I hightailed it down the 210 to the 134 to the 405 and traffic cooperated so it wasn’t long and I was exiting onto Getty Center Drive and paid my $5.00 to park then hopped on one of their cool little funiculars and headed up to enjoy a beautiful Southern California evening.
I love Friday evenings at the Getty. There is usually something going on although tonight the only real event was some film on architectural photography which I am sure was absolutely riveting. I decided to just meander around the lovely grounds, hit a few of the galleries, then enjoy the amazing garden. There are a few dream jobs in this world and I think one of them must be horticulturist at the Getty.
One Friday when I was headed out of LAX on the redeye, I stopped by the Getty and they were doing a performance art piece which involved some very serious looking actor types dressed in faux-Greek god/Ninja warrior garb and black and white face paint doing a VERY slow and stylized saunter around the outside of the galleries. This involved walking into and through the various fountains scattered around the gallery courtyards and occasionally stopping and just looking off into space for long periods of time all to the accompaniment of drums. One actor was actually required to slither on his belly while another unrolled parchment paper in front of this little band of merrymakers. When it was finally over, which you only figured out after they stopped looking into space one last time and just walked away, the large crowd applauded like we knew what the hell we had just watched.
I had to have 2 G&Ts after that and ponder the existential nature of the universe.
This evening, though I just relaxed and enjoyed myself then, after watching the sun sink below the smog line, I whipped it back down the hill, fetched the Impala from the parking garage, and headed on down the 405 to LAX where I discovered that National Car Rental has decided that their previous location was much too convenient and easy to find so have moved to property that requires blind faith and undying perseverance to find. Before I can even get out of the car an attendant is there with my receipt and I hop the bus for the long journey over to LAX. Before we even leave the parking lot, someone is radioing the bus to announce that one of the passengers may have a set of keys and could everyone check.
Well, we all look at each other, pat our pockets, and mumble we don’t have them. The driver radios back that no one on board has keys. The invisible voice radios back that indeed, someone has to have them…someone who just returned an Impala has to have the keys on this bus!
Oh dear. Well, I pat a little lower and indeed, mea culpa, I am the guilty party. I was so shocked about my receipt being ready before I could even turn off the darn engine that I just hopped out and stuck the keys in my pocket. Not wanting to appear like the village idiot in front of my fellow passengers, I discretely place the keys into the bus driver’s hand as I prance off the bus at the first stop.
An Evening at LAX Followed by the Trip Home
LAX Terminal 1 is hopping as usual and I decide to treat myself to dinner at Encounter, the Disney-designed restaurant atop the Theme Tower in the middle of LAX. As I sprint across the traffic, I have a slight feeling of déjà vu. My first trip through LAX was in the early 1970s, before all the parking garages and doubledecked access roads. My parents and I flew on TWA nonstop MCI-LAX then connected onto AA for the short hop down to SAN aboard one of AA’s fine DC10s. There were only about 6 souls aboard that flight and, so they wouldn’t have to hike all the way to the back to fling beverages at us, the FAs moved everyone up to FC. I was a kid in a candy store for that 29 minute flight or what ever it was. On the return to LAX from SAN, we were on a Delta L1011 and during our time in LAX waiting for our TWA flight home, not only did we see Don Knotts drunk and heading from the VIP lounge to his Honolulu flight, we walked over to the Theme Tower and watched planes land from the outside observation deck which I doubt is even open anymore what with all the super silly security measures being forced down our throats.
A year or so later, I traveled to see my grandmother and aunt and uncle in SAN by myself and on my return, built enough time into my connection in LAX to enjoy lunch in the old restaurant that used to be in the Theme Tower. I had a window seat and ordered a sandwich with sliced tongue and fontina cheese which I had never had before and didn’t even know if I liked but it just sounded so cosmopolitan. Here I was, a dumb, semi-nerdy high school kid from the sticks of Missouri, having lunch in a fancy airport restaurant by myself with a waitress who just fawned over me. I never felt cooler. So this is the jetset life!
Years later in 1997, as an adult, I was leading a meeting at the LAX Sheraton and came down to the Theme Tower to check out the newly opened and much talked about restaurant Encounter that had taken up residency in the Theme Tower. I thought the space-age theme complete with lava lamps at the bar was cute and the food was good.
Well, I was happy to discover that not much has changed at Encounter other than the prices...up, up and away but I guess that is in keeping with the theme.
I found a trendy looking but rather uncomfortable stool at the bar where I enjoyed an expensive thimble-sized cosmopolitan, a tender marinated and grilled flank steak accompanied by a warm fingerling potato and artichoke heart salad, and a descent glass of Chilean red. I settled the check to the Visa and decided since it was now about 10:00 p.m., I would whip it over to the AA Terminal and spend the rest of my time in the lovely Admiral’s Club aka Qantas Club, LAX.
The AA Terminal was hopping tonight what with all the Qantas and domestic redeyes so I make good use of the AirPass and Executive Platinum line to secure my boarding passes then attempt to prance through scrutiny only to discover that the line is so long that they are holding people at the bottom of the escalator. I am kept in the corral there for a while, but then am finally granted permission to ascend up to scrutiny central where it is a madhouse and humans employed by some bizarre agency insist on screaming incomprehensible orders at their fellow humans. I make it through with my wits and dignity intact and head immediately to the Admiral’s Club.
As I walk down the concourse past the gate from which the first of the two SYD-bound Qantas flights departs, I can’t help noticing about 50 pre-teens all dressed alike in blazing red T-shirts waiting to board. Their chaperones already look exhausted just from keeping this clan from sneaking off to smoke and make out…I can’t imagine what they will look like after 16 hours in the air with this group. I send them a mental blessing and continue my waltz down the concourse.
Well, I ascend up to where they check your credentials (is there any club anywhere that is more unfriendly than the LAX AC when welcoming their guests?), present my papers, and am granted access to the Qantas Club masquerading as an Admiral’s Club.
I am relieved to see the same bartender on duty who is usually there. He is great. Watching him work the bar when it is packed with Qantas flyers and all their free drink coupons is like a night at the ballet. Usually, I have to beat my way with a stick up to the bar just to get a seat for his performance but tonight it is just me, one other guest seated at the other end, a slow but steady walk-up business, the bartender, and an assistant.
I inquire where everyone is and find out that the Qantas JFK-LAX-SYD flight is running very late and isn’t scheduled to land until sometime after 1:30 a.m. The staff is not happy because they are contractually obligated to stay open until that flight boards for its leg to SYD so they will be here until nearly 3:00 a.m. or so.
I offer my apologies. In reality, I’m a bit glad to hear that the Qantas Club will be open longer than usual tonight because that means us AA domestic grunts on redeyes won’t be kicked out on our ears at 11:30 p.m. when the Club normally closes leaving us to spend the reminder of our time with the huddled masses by our gates. There truly is a silver lining in nearly every cloud.
I order a vodka/soda with a splash of cranberry and Rose’s lime juice and before I can pay, a Qantas flyer appears, throws down his free drink coupon and orders a Diet Coke. The Diet Coke is delivered and the patron walks away. The bartender looks at me, looks at the coupon and knowing the international sign for “I can’t give it to you but you can grab it because there is no charge for Diet Coke so that coupon is going to waste unless you use it,” I snatch the coupon and present it as payment for my beverage of an alcoholic nature. This of course, continues through the rest of the evening.
The LAX Qantas Club does have a Flagship Lounge to which I have never been granted access but I hear it has a descent selection of nibbles to accompany all the free booze you can suck down. On the regular side where I am, there is always a large tray of plastic wrapped cheeses (white and yellow) and a lovely basket of crisps. Tonight, that selection has been enhanced with tea sandwiches, veggies and dip, and a large selection of cookies. I would love to see the bill being submitted to Qantas for this upscaling of service.
No wonder the rest of the Admiral’s Clubs are pissed. They get no subsidy from Qantas but I bet they get an earful from unknowing customers who expect a consistent level of service in all the Clubs. DCA took their cheese away over a year ago; my beloved MCI club never had cheese although has started putting out a better snack mix and veggies and dip; ORD no longer has pepper-jack cheese in its inventory, just yellow or white cubes which disappear at 6:00 p.m. but the bartender will usually fetch you some if you ask nicely; and at DFW, the cheese and crackers appear randomly for only 3 minutes and 12 seconds somewhere between 4:00 and 6:00 and if it is time to put it away, they will actually snatch the tray out from in front of you and grab any cubes you might have in your hands away from you…NO CHEESE FOR YOU!
Last edited by mwp2paris; Jul 3, 2004 at 9:17 am
Jul 3, 2004, 8:21 am
#3
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: Currently a man without a country; American Airlines-3MM, Executive Platinum; US Airways-Doesn't Matter AAnymore; Hilton-Diamond; Starwood-Platinum; Hyatt-Diamond
Posts: 702
At 11:45, I bid farewell to the bartender and his assistant, tip generously for all the coupons I enjoyed, then make my way down to my gate to check out the other souls accompanying me on the 12:30 a.m. flight to DFW. It is the usual suspects…a few business folk like myself just wanting to get home, some unscrubbed youth who haven’t learned bedhead really only looks cool in bed, and the rest appear to be folks who thought the redeye was a great idea when they planned their trips but now that the reality of the situation has set in, are looking desperate and mortified at the thought of what lies ahead of them.
They announce boarding and I prance onboard and find my bulkhead seat 3F, settle in, and before we even begin our takeoff roll am sound asleep. I don’t wake until we are on final into DFW so I have nothing to say about this flight other than they kept the plane comfortably cool and we arrived alive.
We are, unfortunately, late arriving into DFW and since they have recently moved the departure time for the first DFW-MCI flight of the morning up by 15 minutes, I barely drag myself from A to C or was that C to A (you get the idea) in time to be the first to board my last flight of the morning.
This time I settle into 3E and slurp down 3 club sodas on the flight to rehydrate myself. Finally, we begin a long descent into MCI and land 20 minutes early. I whip it into the lovely MCI Admiral’s Club to see which of our fantastic staff is working this morning. It is yet another of my favorite AAngels so we laugh and gossip for a minute then I head outside to flag down Mrs. Paris.
Within a minute I spot her wheeling the Paris-mobile up to me and I fling my luggage and self in before the Parking Gestapo can nail us and, after a few kisses, we are headed south to breakfast, the Farmer’s Market, and another lovely weekend home in my fair town, Kansas City.
They announce boarding and I prance onboard and find my bulkhead seat 3F, settle in, and before we even begin our takeoff roll am sound asleep. I don’t wake until we are on final into DFW so I have nothing to say about this flight other than they kept the plane comfortably cool and we arrived alive.
We are, unfortunately, late arriving into DFW and since they have recently moved the departure time for the first DFW-MCI flight of the morning up by 15 minutes, I barely drag myself from A to C or was that C to A (you get the idea) in time to be the first to board my last flight of the morning.
This time I settle into 3E and slurp down 3 club sodas on the flight to rehydrate myself. Finally, we begin a long descent into MCI and land 20 minutes early. I whip it into the lovely MCI Admiral’s Club to see which of our fantastic staff is working this morning. It is yet another of my favorite AAngels so we laugh and gossip for a minute then I head outside to flag down Mrs. Paris.
Within a minute I spot her wheeling the Paris-mobile up to me and I fling my luggage and self in before the Parking Gestapo can nail us and, after a few kisses, we are headed south to breakfast, the Farmer’s Market, and another lovely weekend home in my fair town, Kansas City.
Last edited by mwp2paris; Jul 3, 2004 at 9:18 am
Jul 3, 2004, 5:29 pm
#7
Join Date: Aug 2002
Location: Stanmore, Sydney, Australia.
Programs: NZ Airpoints GE
Posts: 1,360
That was a good read and very very funny!!!
Funny but I was at LAX two weeks ago prior to boarding Air New Zealand LAX AKL SYD, I spent a few hours in the Explorer Rest. The food is crap but I liked the wine and the view were sublime. I would say it has a more 1960s feel about it rather than Disney.
Funny but I was at LAX two weeks ago prior to boarding Air New Zealand LAX AKL SYD, I spent a few hours in the Explorer Rest. The food is crap but I liked the wine and the view were sublime. I would say it has a more 1960s feel about it rather than Disney.
Jul 7, 2004, 2:13 am
#8
Join Date: Mar 2001
Location: SYD
Programs: Too many golds, no plat: OZ*G, AC*G, NZ*G, VA Gold, QF Gold, HH Gold, Bonvoy Gold
Posts: 5,364
What a great report! The thread title really didn't sell it to me, and I only found my way here by accident - but I'm glad I did. I particularly enjoyed your use of the phrase 'disco nap' (a favourite of mine, which deserves to be in wider circulation), not to mention all the whipping. Mrs Paris must be an understanding woman! 
Jul 11, 2004, 10:56 pm
#11
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: Currently a man without a country; American Airlines-3MM, Executive Platinum; US Airways-Doesn't Matter AAnymore; Hilton-Diamond; Starwood-Platinum; Hyatt-Diamond
Posts: 702
Well, thanks to all who enjoyed my report. I love writing them and hope they bring a smile and a nod of recognition from my fellow FTers.
I'm off tomorrow on a 2-day trip to OKC then on to LAX for 1 day in South Pasadena and then back out of BUR to MCI all on SOUTHWEST AIRLINES...I hate my travel department. They have fallen for the "if it's Southwest, it must be cheap" lie completely overlooking the $50-100 savings AA would offer them. Never trust someone whose idea of travel is the trip from their cubicle to the vending machine.
I'll see what humor I can sqeeze out of this impending peach-of-a-travel week!
Safe travels to all and to all a good night!
MWP
I'm off tomorrow on a 2-day trip to OKC then on to LAX for 1 day in South Pasadena and then back out of BUR to MCI all on SOUTHWEST AIRLINES...I hate my travel department. They have fallen for the "if it's Southwest, it must be cheap" lie completely overlooking the $50-100 savings AA would offer them. Never trust someone whose idea of travel is the trip from their cubicle to the vending machine.
I'll see what humor I can sqeeze out of this impending peach-of-a-travel week!
Safe travels to all and to all a good night!
MWP