I'd been victim of several schedule changes, and instead of
having a nice long visit at the NRT RCC, I had a long
layover in San Fran. There were two previous flights to
Boston, one delayed by weather, the other of which I should
have rebooked myself on after one of the schedule changes.
By the time I inquired they were both zeroed out.

Camped out in the club and read FT and similar pastimes for
an inordinately long part of the day.

UA 824 SFO BOS 1335 2216 752 2D Ch9^ Empower

Red carpet boarding was about as chaotic as you'd expect for
a flight that has 24 F seats and more GS/1Ks than that - out
of curiosity I looked right and found it substantially
populated, and I was among the first 10 left-turners. It
seems that 1Ks in coach are perhaps overcautious in staking
out their overhead space and stuff like that.

Asked my seatmate how he was today, out of politeness or
custom. He said that he was "so good it's scary." I dropped
the subject.

Quite bumpy climb out. Quite bumpy flight. Ch9 was most
amusing, with numerous aircraft inquiring, requesting,
begging for smoother air. "Light to moderate all altitudes"
was the stock response pretty much across the country.

The meal was billed as "salad or ham and cheese sandwich";
I told the FA to get me an extra cup of nuts and the heck
with a meal. She thanked me, as there was not much wiggle
room in the catering.

When the 1P guy behind me heard that the sandwich was all
that was available, he went ballistic, saying that he was a
vegetarian, and this was outrageous, all that kind of stuff;
the purser explained that by the time the GSs and 1Ks were
accommodated, that was all that was left. He said that he
flew this route 3 times every week. I was tempted to poke
my head back and point out that if he flew this much he must
know by now how to order a special meal, but I didn't bother
- sitting back and eavesdropping as his seatmate was treated
to a silly diatribe about airlines and how he deserved to be
treated like some kind of royalty for being a 1P. She rather
sweetly inquired why he flew so much, and he said that he
lived on one coast and worked on the other. Whatever; I
wondered to myself whether anyone on either side of the
country would hire such a one. Then I evilly thought that
this must be an FTer of the less benign variety.

The purser, bless her soul, showed him two crew meals (both
salads), inquiring whether he might be interested in either.
He huffed a bit and sent her away. Later she spent some time
explaining the situation, and I guess that he was eventually
placated.

Turns out the salad was topped with something, chicken I
think (I caught only a glance as one went by). My happy
seatmate had the other choice, which looked like an
enormous meal. The sandwich was at least a quarter pound
of meat and a substantial amount of melted cheese on a
big ciabatta roll, sided with bean soup of some kind and
a full cup of hummus with pita triangles. Chocolate cake
rounded out the repast. It looked almost worth eating,
for someone without a sodium restriction.

I stuck with the very mediocre Bushman's Gully Shiraz.