Next morning, a pretty nice breakfast buffet, which I
managed to get only to the very tail end of. Good thing I
didn't eat much - they cleared the buffet away and
immediately started setting up brunch, which was lavish and
varied - I tried the turkey-jalapeno sausage, which
fortunately tasted like jalapeno and unfortunately tasted
like turkey; smoked salmon (served on bagel chips with
cream cheese); and osetra caviar (served on mini cheese
quiches). Interestingly, these sophisticated FTers didn't
go for the caviar very much: at the end of the meal there
remained three servings, of which GreenFireFlyer and I got
two. I might attribute this reticence on the absence of an
appropriate Champagne.

A free couple hours, which we spent dithering and looking at
such romantic spots as Duane Reade, after which we joined
Spaceman and George (this year's trip winner) for a ride to
the airport - this took an agonizing hour and half through
the wilds of Queens. I wonder how much worse it would have
been had we waited until rush hour to make our exit.

Check-in was quick, especially as all of us were *G except
George, and we dragged him along with us.

Security, even the priority lane, on the other hand, was
horrid. I think LH did a good thing by relocating the lounge
inside the secure area.

There were quite a number of other FTers here early for
the bubbly (I'm not sure what it was, Drappier?), or in my
case, the Martell Cordon Bleu.

Shortly before the scheduled opening time of our reception
we were (gently) kicked out of the Senator lounge and sent
downstairs, whereupon the gracious bk3day guested me into
the F lounge upstairs for dinner. The elevator was out,
so we had to be admitted through the back stairs, which
involved finding a manager to swipe us in with his card
and lots of apologies.