* Tour of the redacted facilities at SFO at 2PM.
We will also be meeting at 12:30PM in the north
international terminal food court (landside) for
lunch, for those that might be interested.

After a glass of the sunrise elixir it was time to meet
everyone at the food court: a quite diverse and interesting
mix, as FT is. Pre-event socialization, followed by a
circuitous journey down to the bus stop and trip on the
employee bus (the few employees traveling in the middle of
the day seemed quite bemused by this large bunch of folks).

We were disgorged a block from the shiny redacted
catering facility (Dobbs House in my early flying days).
Upstairs to sign in and receive visitor badges.

We started with a presentation by Don, the head of HR - our
contact had come down with a virus - which was enjoyable and
informative. One advantage of having the HR guy do the tour
is that he can honestly answer "I don't know" to sticky
questions such as how much it costs to produce a meal vs.
the revenue generated.

And then ... an airplane meal.

I thought it was a transcon 2-class UA F dinner, but the
consensus was that it was too good for that and was for
international C.

Mixed green salad with Asian sesame dressing: this was just
like what I've gotten on the plane, down to the little extra
that one sometimes gets in better times: dried apple rings
and pignoli.

The main courses were chicken with barbecue sauce, potatoes,
and vegetable medley prominently featuring zucchini; or
mahi-mahi with an orange-turmeric sauce, rice, and timbale
of shredded baby bok choy. As I've actually turned down the
former on the plane, I went for the fish (usually a bad
choice in the air), which was moist, not overcooked, and
quite palatable. The sauce was tart with a hint of sweet,
vaguely citrusy and Indian-spicy. The sides were acceptable.
A good job, I thought, but I also wondered how this dish
might change with freezing, reheating, and finally service
at 500 mph.

Dessert was an Eli-like chocolate cheesecake.

After which, a behind-the-scenes look at the production and
staging facilities: a very interesting hour. Back on the bus
(I sat between totmode and a cutish FA on her way to work
UA 926 SFO-FRA that evening) and to the terminal, where
we went our ways pledging to see each other for dinner.

* Head to hotels and maybe have pre-dinner drinks somewhere

Got a ride to the Hilton with kalkat and assorted Fters:
stored my bags with ShopAround (my accommos were with old
friends whom I haven't seen in a while who live on the
Oakland-Berkeley border) and chilled out before dinner.

* Dinner at Buca di Beppo at 7PM.

Walked ShopAround to the restaurant, which was easy to find,
despite neither of us' having had the clevertude to remember
the address. Walked in and were hailed by work2fly, totmode,
and JeepGuyDE at the bar. Guess what? work2fly is training
for a new career, that of dad and husband. Congratulations!

Upstairs to the festive and eardrum-shattering dining room,
where we were but one of maybe ten sizable parties all
chattering away. Effectively, one could hear the person at
either side and maybe the three directly across the table.
I sat between VPescado and MsEverywhere, with totmode,
work2fly, and I believe jmd001, sorry, I forget, the cheap
Chianti was flowing.

The food: tossed salad with peperoncini - the usual, with
a standard herbed vinaigrette;

pizza Margherita - a shattering thin crust, decent sauce,
not quite enough basil, very mild cheese;

spaghetti marinara - the usual, the pasta surprisingly
retaining some texture despite not being in its al dente
youth any more;

lemon chicken - pretty good, though there wasn't that much
of it: if I'd been at the end of the table near the waiters,
I'd have asked for more;

more pizza Margherita to make up for the paucity of the
lemon chicken (at our end of the table);

and some rather sinfully sweet cheesecake to finish, which
definitively put to rest any stomachic emptiness.

In what I think is a digression from the normal custom
work2fly paid for a giant fiasco of Chianti for us to toast
his connubial bliss with. I tried to pay for the wine, but
he gave me some kind of story of my paying for something at
a previous gathering.

* InterContinental minibar party and/or bar crawl after
dinner (for those interested)

I had to go back to Oakland so begged off this. As the place
I was staying is pretty near Rockridge station, I had an
easy time getting back. The whole family except for John was
up: had a good chat with K., and their daughter proudly
served me a slice of her banana cream pie, which was good
but perhaps not quite what the doctor ordered after a day
of caloric indulgence.