US 273 OAK PHX 0910 1106 733 7A

Got to the airport and discovered that I hadn't been put
on the upgrade list by the computer. The friendly agent
typed and typed and finally got me on, giving the welcome
news that I was #1 on all three waiting lists. She wished
me best of luck and a good day and called me "sweetie."

Well.

Flight 1 didn't clear, as a CP checked in and glommed my
#1 spot. And this West 733 had only 8F, as opposed to the
East ones, which have 12. Not a great tragedy. The middle
stayed open (one of two opens on the flight), and I was
content enough to watch from there, marveling at the Kettles
(wrong seats, oversize carryons, the whole nine yards) and
then take my nap. I did note that the FAs were singularly
impatient, perhaps nasty is a better word, with the
infrequent flyers.

We docked near the upstairs A club, which I discovered has
been closed until the fall for "severe storm damage." So
trucked back to the little A club, where the agent gleefully
told me that I was now second on the list with a CP ahead,
but "several" people hadn't checked in, so I should be fine.

Cheetos and chocolate-chip cookies, luncheon of champions.

The $2 Old Grand-Dad special is still there.

US1546 PHX CLT 1345 2040 321 10A

Back to the gate, where I discovered that F had checked in
full. Okay, 10A is a great seat, especially when B remains
open. It didn't. Further, row 11 was taken up by a family
of 4: toddler behind me, gabbling away, clicking the cover
of the EmPower port, and fussing with the tray table when
not kicking my seat; Daddy in the middle, and Mommy
at the aisle, having traded her F seat (perhaps my F
seat) for it. These two took turns with a leather-lunged
squalling infant, who was (barely) tolerable until s/he
screamed directly into my right ear. Humbug to all this.
A quite dishy leggy blonde FA and several considerably less
dishy (and rather less agreeable) ones, including a brunette
version of Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS.

A very brisk business with buy-on-board food and bev - and
even with the BoA Signature Visa applications, which the
small blonde purser hawked mercilessly. And the seatbelt
light was on the entire time, despite the trip being mostly
butter-smooth. Later: both infant and toddler screaming in
tandem. One can perhaps partially excuse this because during
the ascent, the plasticky interior made screaming noises of
its own, as if the material were being twisted. Humbug to
all this, too. At least the dishy FA smiled a lot.

US1132 CLT BWI 2225 2349 734 1C

Checked at the club, where the agent informed me that I
would surely clear at the gate. After a snack and an e-mail
(why can't the regular Charlotte wi-fi work in the club?)
it was gate dance time. The display said "first class full,"
but I was bolstered by the words of the concierge and waited
for the first couple zones to board. No word. Heaved a sigh
and made my way forward. The machine rejected my pass.
"What's wrong with his boarding pass?," one of the agents
asked the other, handing it to him. He typed a bit and said
"your seat assignment is 1C." "Thank you, sir," I said.
"Thank you," he replied.

Rewarded myself for my day of relative abstemiousness with a
couple Glenlivets. The FA checked to make sure I'd finished
the first before giving me a second. We rode a tail wind
back, so I got back to cruel reality before SuperShuttle was
ready for me.